Gregor and the Cutter Lair
by Collier World
Summary: Five years after he has last seen the Underland, Gregor is living a hard, bitter life in the shells of New York City. When an unexpected visit from an old friend turns into a deadly quest, Gregor must decide what comes first: love or life.
1. Prologue: In the Dark

**Prologue**

**In The Dark**

CaaKLy3382 had never experienced fear in his life, and at this moment, if he were able to experience any emotion at all, he would have been glad for it.

Cutters weren't designed to experience anything. Designed, what a kind word.

Maliciously, he might add. They were cutters for a reason. They cared only for the whole, nothing for the individuals. Such an ingenious way of life, and so different from those around them. CaaKLy3382 really found it much more pleasing than that. Or, he would have, could he have been pleased.

Gnawers were selfish, greedy, fighting only for themselves and what could become of them. If their territories were twice as prosperous as they were, the gnawers would wipe themselves to extinction ravaging and killing each other out of pure voracity for the land.

Crawlers were pessimists, the fools, fearing of everything that garnered danger towards them. As such, the cowards always fled to safety behind the backs of their allies, who offered protection in exchange of valuable resources. The crawlers, by view of the cutters, were utterly pathetic. The feeling was considered mutual among many species.

Spinners, nibblers, and shiners were too dumb for their own good, locked inside their ways and cowering like the crawlers behind higher powers. Diggers were incompetent, losing their land long ago. Serpents couldn't tell their front from their rear, and only prospered in their meek ways through sheer numbers.

Killers and fliers were closely knit, but both only cared for what was in their own realms. What lies beyond they would attack and destroy, as was their way, not even bothering to pillage from their desecration. There was a word for it, which radiated amongst all the cutters in observation. Bitches.

Cutters, of all, were the magnificent. Cutters felt not love, attachment, grief, or even really agony. If they were ordered to mate for the sake of procreation, they did so. If they were sent to be killed, they went without complaint. If their closest brothers and sisters were killed in battle, it meant nothing, for everything was for the benefit of the whole.

No, fear was something CaaKLy3382 could live without, courtesy of his ever-accumulating forefathers.

So now, running full length down an unfamiliar and horribly narrow Underland tunnel, carrying an unconscious and stolen female killer on his back from a horde of warrior-bearing fliers while his expressionless comrades defended their prize, CaaKLy3382 experienced nothing at all, only a drastic sense of urgentness which was mutual amongst his fellows. Despite the enormous numbers of cutters that seemed to fall at the blades of killers and the claws of their fliers, they came relentlessly onward, struggling to reach the girl with what could only be expressed as desperation.

Not he nor any of his companions knew just what this female meant to their species, but by order of their queen it was of utmost importance to return her to cutter grounds _alive_. No exceptions could be allowed. They didn't know why. But it wasn't the way of a cutter to simply disobey.

The one flaw of the cutter system was that punishment really meant nothing, as individual cutters made no choices without conferring. 'Twas the way of a cutter, much as it could be avoided.

Behind him, CaaKLy3382's antennae screamed at him that he was very nearly being overrun, a prospect quite unacceptable. Without turning, he could sense the hacking swords of killers, slicing through his dying brothers and sisters like their pinchers through a spinner's web. Despite the fact that his legs were already going much faster than the average cutter's could, he quickened his pace farther, knowing nothing but the mission. He had learned long ago that exhaustion and pain were the easiest opponents to conquer.

Over his head flew the corpse of CaaKLy3371, who had been hatched to the same hive as he, tossed ruthlessly away from the horrible claw of a flier. It only gave CaaKLy3382 another realization that his enemies were closing on his position. He pressed his speed farther still.

Even as he ran unbelievably onward, he could sense with a fortunate note that the numbers of both sides were dropping rapidly. The killers and their fliers had just completed a quick round lap to regroup themselves for a more organized attack, but even still there were only around a dozen pairs left alive and flying.

Likewise, the cutter ranks had taken casualties. Although his species still swarmed the ground like water over stone, CaaKLy3382 knew that it took many cutters to drop a flier, much less a killer with a sword. They were more or less evenly matched, which proved to be less than wonderful odds for any cutter battle.

The outcome would be close.

The female on his back hadn't stirred once since the cutter's hasty departure from the killer castle, shortly after securing their objective: her. Her physical features meant nothing to CaaKLy3382. Only her mind would interest him, and then only for insight to the hive. Overall, nothing about her mattered more than to get her back to the queen, which was the objective of them all.

The fliers dived for the attack. The cutters repelled with force. Three killers fell from their mounts as they were ripped from beneath them. A fourth leaped off his as it met its demise, determined to cut through their red bodies to the female they were trying so hard to rescue. CaaKLy3382 wondered exactly what was her importance to them all for such a countermeasure as he watched the brave but doomed killer fall beneath his fellows' ranks.

Nine remained after the first ranks as they swooped down in an attempt to claim their stolen property. In an act of familiar selflessness, cutters left and right threw themselves into the air to block the flight path of the fliers. The ceiling was so low that the leaping cutters took out half of the surviving fliers with only that measure.

Four remained, set and determined on their goal, even through by now the cutters clearly had the uncontested advantage. Even so, the killers did not turn back, refusal in the face of defeat heated in their solemn eyes.

As they dived in for the final attempt to free the female two fliers were immediately stripped of their riders, following them to the grave only moments later, still wondering in confusion how their deaths could come about so fast. A third lost on of its wings to a well-placed pincher, which brought the duo crashing horrifically to the ground in defeat.

Three cutters leaped in hopeful triumph the remaining flier, spelling certain doom on their threat. At the last moment, however, its killer courageously leaped off and, with a single swing of his sword, took the dead cutters back to the ground. Within seconds his adversaries had completely enveloped him. His act had been unbelievably valiant, however, and CaaKLy3382 realized, as the thing flew closer and closer, that it might have just given his now lone flier a chance at improbable success.

Despite the desperate attempts by cutters below to stop its progress, the flier continued to fight forward to CaaKLy3382 and the female. Cutter after cutter launched itself at the beast, but it fought on relentlessly. After only a few moments, it became clear to CaaKLy3382 that if he were to escape the predicament, there was only one way to do it: confrontation.

He stabbed a sharp leg deep into the black dirt, rearing around to face the flier and baring his devilish pinchers broadly in challenge. The flier never hesitated, only threw itself at the enormous cutter.

For a moment, he was disorientated, only aware that he and the flier were locked together in body and doing everything possible to cause damage to the opposite. He was mildly aware that they were rolling rapidly and uncontrollably through the dirt as they fought, scratching and biting and screaming.

Despite the ferocity of the combat, the battle only lasted a few seconds. When it was finally over, CaaKLy3382 rolled off of the flier's corpse with very little ability to move. Even now he could feel the onset of severe injuries, and he knew there was no chance of his survival.

But the female had survived the operation unscathed and continually unconscious. And he had not failed.

He felt no pain at his injuries, only pride and relief that nothing had happened to disrupt the plan. The girl was not dead. She could be returned to the queen. And no further pursuit was coming.

Gracefully, the female was removed from his dying back by a comrade and the large column of cutters began to move away from its dying but successful fellow, off once more toward cutter territory. As his life ebbed away, CaaKLy3382 came as close to happiness as he ever had.

The mission would go on.


	2. 1: Life in the City

**PART 1**

**Lost**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**1**

**Life in the City**

It was the dark that he hated the most. When the sun went down and all he could do was sit or lie or pool in his own blood while he reflected mournfully on all he had lost and was losing.

He tried not to, 'cause even thinking about thinking about the possibilities of conjuring up their memories brought the likeness of tears to his eyes. The real liquid things would have actually sprung up, but he had used up his last reservoir of those long ago. Nothing was left in their place. Only emptiness. Just like his heart.

So this was how Gregor spent his evening, walking the streets, shrouded in black, looking at no one yet seeing everything, picking up each and every spare and lost coin lying in the street he walked upon, of which none he missed. Actually, in all honesty, this was how he spent all of his evenings. In Hell. Super.

He'd learned long ago to mask his emotions from the outside world, because all they could do was show something to someone he most certainly didn't want them to know. There was only one person in the entire world (well, under it, actually) that he would ever actually consider expressing his feelings to, and that person was far gone from his life, gone and never to return.

Gregor kicked a stone out of his path and kept walking.

New York had seen better days. Better years, in fact. Only in the past three had the great city suddenly begun to collapse in on itself. Strange how that happens. Something perfectly normal one day, and then a few bank explosions and car jacks later the president declares the tri-state area a war zone. Goody for the residents.

Actually, the process had begun in a number of weeks, around the time Gregor was just starting to adjust back to life above the ground. He had been in school only one day when he felt the ground shake, heard the distant screams, and smelled the smoke seconds later even though the explosions were dozens of blocks away.

Two banks. Blown to smithereens. The biggest intact thing they could find afterwards were the breakfast bagels the morning clerks had just been opening. Yeah.

That had been the beginning. Next, eighteen car jacks erupted in his tiny little neighborhood alone... on the same day, not to mention the other hundred that went on across New York. Both of his parents' vehicles were taken, and that was before he had even returned from school after its cancellations due to "inappropriate explosive practices in the immediate area".

His parents had already been in turmoil, screeching around the house, preparing without delay to get the hell out of New York as fast as possible, but no sooner had they left very early that night had they found that all bus systems were shut down and/or compromised due to fear of the bombers' escape. No cars had been allowed in or out of the city, and before anyone knew it their city was on lockdown.

And it was downhill from there.

Within the next two months, enriched criminals had destroyed anything useful at all in the city, leaving Gregor and his family effectively trapped in their own playful Hell. Despite the city lockdown's ending there was nothing they could do to leave. They couldn't afford the bus fares, so heavy were their losses. Insurance didn't apply to the amount of damage that had been done. Both parents had lost their jobs. They lived in the shambles of their house, going to the burning remnant of their school.

They had nothing else to do.

A pickpocket walked past inconspicuously, reaching slyly towards the pockets of Gregor's long, black overcoat. Before they could sink in to find any quick cash, however, Gregor had instinctively grabbed the wrist and twisted it into a most unnatural position. Releasing his hold on the man, he walked on, leaving the pickpocket grappling with his disfigured arm and groaning horribly in pain. He didn't look back.

Not long after their situation began, his grandmother had succumbed to her age and didn't wake up on one morning. Not long after that his father had suffered an unbelievably extreme relapse from his constant conditions, one that sentenced him to bed for countless months, making life harder on all of them.

Then Boots was almost kidnapped. Lizzie and his mother were raped and nearly killed. The family was falling apart at the threads, and guess whom was the exhausted needle holding the tapestry together?

Gregor.

Boots' kidnappers were now laying somewhere at the bottom of the New York sewers. The bodies of rapists' Ralph Tygor and David Fredrickson were still missing to the authorities. He had saved them all, by himself, with no help from no one, no how. Nothing could have been harder than this hard task God had given him. He didn't ask for help, however, even though he knew he desperately needed it. He already knew none would ever come. He was alone.

He blamed no one for that. He was alone of his own choice. His family was suffering for a decision he made long ago, and he was trying to make up for it. "Trying" is a serious keyword in here. He had been trying for a long time. The two red scars he now wore running from his left temple all the way over his throat were enough proof of that.

He became aware of a tall figure keeping steady pace with him on the opposite side of the street upon which he was walking. Tracking him. Weighing him up. Preparing for attack.

_Probably a mugger_, Gregor thought glumly, taking little interest. _Let him come. He won't get far._

It was nights like these he hated most, the Fridays after a school day that held no motive for a sixteen-year-old delinquent, a night where he could find no work to scrounge for precious food for his family. Nights like these left him alone with his thoughts, something he did not desire in the least. He preferred not to have time to think, to remember, to mourn, to wish, and to accept. It happened enough in his heart to not leave any want on the outside. It was just too much.

Truth be told, Gregor didn't know how he made it through these nights. He thought that as soon as he reluctantly opened his mind's gates to his memories he would curl up in sorrow and die, overwhelmed by the mistakes and longings of his past, the sorrow of his present, and the despair of his future. Nothing was left for him, only his crippled family, of which only he could even try to repair. A futile effort. A worthless task.

He supposed he made it through the darkness of anti-day only through a name. Just by thinking of it, remembering it, pleading with his subconscious not to forget it, and contemplating just what it meant to him. Composed of four simple letters, he found that most of all the things he could still recollect, this tiny name was the one thing he favored most. He struggled with it, turned it over and over in his head, pinching out anything little thing he could. He divided up the letters one by one and analyzed each, starting backwards with the harsh A, followed by the stern X, then moving on to the just U, and finally the strong and mighty L. He cherished the final one most of all. It made him feel strange when he said the letter aloud, although he could not understand why. It was his most favorite letter, but also, on account of all associated with the letter that was taken away from him, it was the most hated letter. So, in effect, if someone asked him what his favorite and least favorite letters were, Gregor would be forced to answer L to both questions. (Fortunately, sane persons seldom ask those questions.) (He truly had no life. Not anymore.)

The figure tracking him across the street had relentlessly come on, neither coming any nearer nor farther, keeping a near perfect distance from its target. Gregor marveled the thing, and began to assess its capabilities in the event of a fight, more out of curiosity more than worry or fear. He didn't lose fights. Ever.

These days, happiness, humor, cheerfulness, all emotions of any good source were completely lost to Gregor. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled, and he was beginning to wonder if he had ever actually laughed. It seemed more and more everyday that the only feelings he was experiencing these days were pain, suffering, and loss. Not even fear. You needed hope to experience fear.

To assess the stalker's reaction, Gregor crossed the street so that he was directly in front of them. Whoever it was, it was tall, hooded, and actually looked quite skilled. Up close, Gregor could see that it carried itself lightly and alert, ready to strike yet amp to defend. Its face couldn't be seen in the twilight and beneath the hood, but its head didn't move, implying either blind stupidity or sly cunning. Gregor took an increased interest as these new traits came to the surface. Even more interestingly, after about a minute, the stalker crossed the road itself, positioning itself once more across the street from him. _Curious_, Gregor intoned. _This requires more study._

In a final note of his reverie before he devoted his attention to the matter at hand, he once more surfaced the face he had tried so hard to hang on yet stow away deep in his mind for the past five years. Defined cheekbones, determined jaw, soft, deathly pale skin stretched so gracefully over those bones, blemished only by a fading yet remarkably beautiful scar on her right cheek. Deep, violet eyes amidst a swirl of decent-length beautiful white blonde hair, all twisted around the strange center smile crushed eternally into his memory...

Stop. Enough. Come back. Too much. Here and now.

Gregor halted in his tracks and took several deep breaths. Around fifty paces behind him and across the street he heard the stalker mimic his actions, but he took no notice. _In and out_, he thought. _In and out. She's gone. Deal with it._ He already had, but even this tiny reminiscence should have been powerful enough to spring tears into his eyes. Probably would have, if he had either the will or the expendable body fluids to actually cry. A few moments later he calmed down.

_Mustn't keep our friend waiting_, he reminded himself, and began to walk once more. The stalker resumed pace with him.

Gregor's full attention was focused on the figure now. He hadn't been so focused on a single one thing since he had rescued Boots from the thieves. _Surprising_, he thought for a moment. _You think a year and a half would be more than enough time to come up with something more interesting than you're sister being kidnapped._ Once upon a time, he would have laughed at the thought. Now, it only deepened his expressionlessness.

The longer he watched out of his peripheral vision the more Gregor began to fathom up a deep feeling of uneasiness. The stalker seemed to know exactly what he was doing, keeping to shadows, going unnoticed except unless he wanted to be, drawing no unneeded attention to himself. Gregor suddenly found himself considering the fact that this person knew exactly what he was getting himself into following him, and that if a fight was to come it might actually be... well... a _fight_.

And just like that, Gregor decided to end it all.

He turned abruptly down a side alley, walked briskly down the murky lane for five paces, and then turned screeching on his heel to face the passage opening, reaching deep inside his overcoat for his gun.

_Let's wait._

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The stalker was unsurprised when his target turned down an alleyway. He had known for some time that his presence was known, and this exact action, the young man walking down a dark street or road, had been exactly what he had been waiting for.

Following Gregor, he immediately skimmed back across the street so that he could follow the boy again down the alley, rummaging quickly along to spare himself the wary steps towards the sidestreets.

Heated in anticipation, the figure took one long, last look around and turned to dart in pursuit down the alleyway----

----and found himself nose to nose with the barrel of a gun.

The boy stood about halfway between the opening to the street and a rough dumpster, holding the gun out at arm's length squared directly between his pursuer's nose. A look of grim determination had set itself resolutely into his face, and his mouth was clamped shut hard to appear intimidating. On perhaps anyone else, it would have worked.

"Can I help you, sir?" Gregor asked, in a voice so low and cold his opposite could feel the wind quiver in its own fear.

"You damn well can," the stalker replied, groaning out a sharp grunt of chills as said wind picked up briefly around him.

But in those four small words, before he could elaborate, he could see he had already struck gold on the boy. Gregor's perfect composure shattered as a huge look of incredibility flooded his face, and the gun barrel faltered by over half a foot. Squinting his eyes for a closer look, Gregor shook his head and whispered solemnly, "That voice... Impossible... It _can't_ be!"

"But it is," replied Ripred, with a groan and a harsh chuckle.


	3. 2: Blast from the Past

**Most of you probably hate this story, but I decided to update anyway.**

**I feel so unloved. I need reviews, people. Let's go. R & R, or else! Just take twenty seconds out of your life to say how much my story rocks and/or sucks! Please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story but the plot, and perhaps some cutter culture references later on.**

**2**

**Blast from the Past**

Gregor had heard the voice. He had recognized the tones. He had heard it so many times in his past that there was no way he could mistake the voice. But there was just no _way_ that this could be _happening_.

Ripred couldn't be here. He just couldn't. It was freaking NEW YORK CITY! Granted, the place's expiration date had long since passed, but even so, a giant rat isn't often seen walking the streets, even shrouded completely in cloaks. Even if he lives only a thousand feet below the surface.

Slowly, cautiously, startled by the possibility of some cruelly and ingeniously hidden trap, Gregor lowered the gun. He didn't repocket however. His senses were screaming profanity at him that he had even put down the damn thing.

And he and the person, who sounded just like Ripred, just stood there staring at each other, one taking in the other and Gregor just being confused. A lengthy and drastically uncomfortable pause ensued in which neither of them dared to move.

A very, very long pause.

Finally, Ripred had had enough. Rats couldn't stay still that long. "What the hell is the matter with you, boy?" he screeched in the way he had on so many occasions in Gregor's distant and forgotten past. "Can't you recognize me, or have you forgotten your closest pal?"

In a voice that displayed none of his inner confusion and oblivious defiance, Gregor stated, "Closest pal, at the last time we were united, seems to be a slight bit of an overstatement."

"Whatever," Ripred growled in retort, still not budging the slightest inch. He gestured at the gun in Gregor's hand with one of his completely enshrouded arms. "Would you put that away? You're almost making me rage."

Gregor did nothing. He couldn't believe this was happening. Any moment now, he was sure, he would wake up to find it had all been a hearty nightmare. On a different thought, he was still considering the fact that this was only a really smart street thug who was really smart. With the hood and the massive cloak, he couldn't make out any furry face, any searing eyes, any fur completely lavishing every inch of skin on the rat. Plus, he couldn't make out a tail, not even as an unusual bunch in the cloak's shape. "How do I know you're really you?"

Ripred gave an impatient snarl. "Because it _is_ me! What's wrong with you? Don't you remember you're old pal, Ripred?"

The name's mention should have been enough to convince Gregor, but five years in a mafia form of New York had convinced him that trustworthy people were like diamonds. Harder than hell to find, none too easy to procure once found, more likely than not to be stolen, and still sharp enough to stab you in the back if you're not careful. One thing he also took with him from his past experiences: Ripred had a way of not telling the truth. Not exactly lying, but not telling the truth. As in, if one hundred thousand died in the first wave of an attack but we still had five hundred thousand in the waiting, Ripred might say that our losses were slight to the whole.

"I suppose you can't prove your claim."

"What _is_ wrong with you, boy?" Ripred barked at him angrily. "What happened to make you so solemn and sharp?"

"The loss of the one you love does strange things to you. You should know about that."

Ripred froze, even though he hadn't moved an inch since their initial confrontation. A moment later he began to shake and breath heavily, but because Gregor could not make out his eyes nor his hands beneath the hood and cloak, he was unaware whether the trembling was in remorse or anger. Nervously, Gregor tightened his grip on the gun. He hadn't considered just what his simple statement would do to the rat. The loss of his love had been serious, but Ripred had lost his entire _family_. He suddenly felt remorseful for his comment.

Slowly, Ripred's shaking subsided and his breath evened. Not a sound could be heard from either of them. Gregor thanked the gods that no one had taken the notice to look just down the side street. The sight of a sixteen-year-old kid wielding a gun near a hooded man would certainly cause a panic.

After another long pause, Gregor spoke again. "I'm sorry. That was a low blow."

The hood shook left and right. "You're right. I should be more considerate." A surprising statement from one so filled with blind pride. The rat took another deep breath and sighed distantly. "We are very alike, you and I, Gregor. Very alike."

Ripred raised both arms forward. With his left, he reached over and rugged back the long sleeve of the cloak, revealing an immensely hairy arm ending in a ragged paw with five very sharp, very lethal-looking claws. A moment later he swiped the sleeve back over, fearful of any unwelcome observation. "Proof enough?"

Gregor slowly shook his head, not letting his guard down for a moment. "That just means you're a rat, possibly impersonating Ripred's voice."

Ripred snarled fiercely, causing Gregor to take a quick step back. "Damn it, boy! You can feel remorseful, but do you have to be so bloody _suspicious_?" The rat took a step forward and raised both his concealed paws to his hood. In a single motion, he dropped the hood back off his head.

Beneath was a battle scarred and very worn over face, courtesy of many, many years of fighting in lands far unknown to the human world. A set nose curled outward of a furry voice, slipping over a hard mouth encrusted with two well-set, burly and sharp teeth, growing healthily upward. A deep-set chin and long-cold red eyes beckoned out at Gregor, but the most recognizable feature of Ripred that was physical evident were the two scars above his right eye, crossing almost at the exact midpoint of each other in a harsh, white-red X. The face was only revealed for a moment before the rat swiftly raised the hood again.

Gregor hesitated unnoticeably for a moment, and then tapped in the safety button on his gun. Never taking his eyes off of Ripred, he slowly pocketed the weapon in the deep folds of his overcoat.

Ripred visibly sagged in relief. "I don't think I ever taught you to be _that_ cautious!" he snarled angrily.

Gregor shrugged nonchalantly, taking a step towards his old mentor. "Growing up around here can do things to you."

"What?" Ripred said confusedly, turning around to gaze out at the street. The rundown shops were all closed, despite the early hour of the evening. As if to mock the ruined city, the twilight looked gray and artificial, only a few dull reds and yellows breaking through the harsh cloud cover. Raising a paw to his chin, Ripred added, "Doesn't look so bad to me..."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, it doesn't look so different from what I grew up in."

"Whether you noticed it or not, I'm not a rat," Gregor snapped. "And I hope to God I'm nothing like you." He wasn't quite sure he was happy to see the giant rat. A while back he would have given anything for it again, but now he could never be sure what would come next. Perhaps the rat was here on a mission for the Underland queen, to summon him back. On the other hand, though, maybe Ripred was just there to check up on him after five years, and would leave once more before too long. Gregor wasn't sure he could take that level of heartbreak again. Plus, even if Ripred wanted him to return to the Underland, his mother, broken and sick as she was, would never allow it. But still, misshapen as he felt, Gregor was curious. "Ripred, why are you here?"

The giant rat slowly turned again to face him. "Stop changing on me, boy! You never used to be this hasty."

"I'm not in the mood, Ripred."

He heard, rather than saw, the rat stiffen. "You do get right to the point," he muttered softly, so softly he probably believed Gregor had not heard. Moving on, however, he said, "You really don't know how much of a risk I make by coming here, boy. You should be thankful you're talking to me."

"I'm anything but," Gregor replied, standing relatively still. He was still not too trusting of his old comrade, even though the rat had saved his life on many occasions in the past. Granted, he had been eleven on many of those occasions, but he owed Ripred enough respect to stay on the moment.

"Respect your elders."

"You're on my turf, remember?"

"Boy!" Ripred screeched, taking a ready step forward. Gregor leaped away, containing his composure and leaving the gun in his pocket. Getting Ripred angry was not a good idea, and Gregor knew he wouldn't stand the slightest chance in a fight. But he knew that if the rat were actually here than he was needed for something, and that he would probably survive the encounter no matter what he said.

"You would really do well to remember your manners," Ripred growled, seething in restricted fury. Taking extremely deep, calming breaths, he added, "What happened to your neck, boy?" He nodded with his head up to the right side of Gregor's face.

Gregor unconsciously lifted his right hand to trace the deep scars on the side of his face, remembering the exact pain of when they were inflicted. Dropping his hand quickly, he replied without thinking, "One of the rapists had very sharp nails."

One of Ripred's pointed ears perked up beneath the hood. "Rapists?! What rapists?"

"The ones who got Lizzie and my mother."

Ripred straightened up and a harsh growl escaped his throat before Gregor had even realized he moved. The rat's every word came out in a strained snarl, as if the words caused him both immense pain and anger. "Rapists... got... Lizzie?"

Gregor nodded slowly, preparing to step back if the need should arise.

The cloth around Ripred's paws curled inward as fists formed beneath them. Softly, he muttered, "Where are they? Where are they?! I will kill them!"

Gregor had rarely seen Ripred so angry, and, quite frankly, the act scared him. So much, in fact, that his rager sense started to flicker deep inside his mind. "Don't worry about them, Ripred," he replied in what he hoped came out as a calming voice. "I've taken care of it."

Ripred didn't relax. "How did you manage to overpower multiple rapists?"

"Not sure exactly," Gregor replied, keeping his eyes locked on the rat's twitching paws. "The rager thing kicked in. I was so scared and angry that I couldn't control it. Next thing I knew, I had two bloody corpses beneath my feet." He cringed slightly at the memory. Inwardly, of course. Too many years of emotionless sorrow had wiped him of any outside disturbance.

Ripred growled a last time and let his hunched shoulders unwind. "I see you for the first time in five years and in the first ten minutes you've already made me feel more apprehensive than I have since the war." The rat let out a long, slow sigh. "Is Lizzie... alright?"

Gregor hesitated before responding. "Rape leaves unseen scars which never heal. She and my mother are... coping."

With a growl and an obvious effort, Ripred uncurled his locking fists. He gave a very harsh chuckle as he watched his fingers pry themselves apart. "What's wrong with me? I'm better than this. Look what you did to me, boy."

Gregor was already moving on in the conversation. "Ripred, why are you here?"

A strange sound, from the back of his throat, emanated outward towards Gregor. He could only identify it as somewhere between a groan and a snarl, both sounds that were uncommon from the giant rat. "You might not believe me, Gregor, when I say this. I'm sorry I had to come. I can only imagine the wound it's ripping open in your heart."

Gregor had never heard such compassionate words from the rat. Ever. But they still proved only to widen the hole that Ripred was trying to understand. "Why are you here?" he asked for the fourth time of the very short evening.

Ripred bowed his head to the ground, something else he had never done. Gregor was astounded to see the rat so humble, so solemn. "Your feelings never changed, I see that now. I hoped like hell that maybe you'd moved on, but I guess----"

"Ripred!"

The rat didn't move, didn't acknowledge the warning, and only went on in a regretful tone. "I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you, but the others wouldn't dare come, and I knew you were the only one I could trust----"

A fierce growl sparked from Gregor. Standing up perfectly straight, he cried, "I believe I need to be getting home. My mother will require my assistance." Surprising even himself, Gregor stalked right past Ripred and right back up the alley towards the street.

For a few steps, there was a silent pause from the rat, as if Ripred were considering letting human go, but finally he gave off a reason in the quietest voice possible.

"They took her, Gregor."

And never had four little words stopped him in his tracks the same way. He spun on his heel so violently that a passing cat went screaming into the nearest trash can for cover. "What?"

"They took her," Ripred said, genuinely sounding sad. "The cutters. They took her."

Scrutinizing Ripred with horrorstruck eyes, Gregor asked the dreadful question he already knew the answer to. "Who did they take?"

The way Ripred avoided his gaze gave the only answer he required.


	4. 3: Bad Memories

**A humongous thanks to tcat75, Alot like Gregor**** and ****xthe beastx**** for their reviews.**

**Tcat75****: Just in response to Ripred being huge... **

**I literally came up with this story within twenty minutes of finishing Code of Claw. It came pretty much out of the blue, and I had to figure out how to put the entire thing into a story somehow, without changing it. Long story short, you're perfectly right, I just couldn't do anything about it. Thanks for pointing that out. =)**

**Sorry about not updating in a while, I've been on a school trip. Oh, well. Here's chapter 3!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Be thankful for that.**

**3**

**Bad Memories**

If Gregor had still had a heart, it would have gone dead at that moment. As it was, all he could feel was a gaping hole in his chest that only seemed to expand horrendously as he did his desperate best to grasp this sudden knowledge.

For the first time in nearly two years, he almost let emotion escape his mask, a shot of pure agony slipping between the cracks of his perfect composure. He was thoroughly surprised and horrified when his legs gave way beneath him, and he went toppling sideways to fall into a sitting position on a number of abandoned crates.

A moan escaped his throat as he found himself staring obliviously at the opposite wall of the alley. Nothing he had ever felt in his life had even come close to this level of pain, not when his father was lost to the world, not when he rescued his family from the perils of the city, not even when he had left her the first time.

Luxa.

Luxa.

The pain of just saying the name after trying so hard to deny himself even that luxury nearly doubled him over in pain. In a split second a thousand memories rushed forcefully back into his pain from behind the mental wall of chaos he had constructed in defense. Images of war, anarchy, and pure happiness careened themselves into his mind, even as he worked with every ounce of strength he could to suppress them.

He vaguely became aware of Ripred standing over him, just, by his body language, standing guard in the moment of pain. A mixed sense of gratitude and hatred flared up in Gregor, but he suppressed those too, knowing that attacking the rat would only get him hurt, besides the fact that he had no sane wish to do so.

For several moments Gregor just sat wading neck high in his own agonizing sorrow, letting it wash over him like the noontide and drowning in it. Gradually he began to stifle his emotions, and bit-by-bit the mask slowly began to come back.

When he could finally sit up he found himself staring directly back into Ripred's eyes, around three feet above him but less than one away, just barely visible from within the confines of the rat's hood. Seeing a true mixture of pity, sympathy, and grief in those depths, Gregor silently collected himself and found his voice in a whisper. "How? Why?"

Ripred replied in a grave voice. "Would you like the full story?"

Gregor hesitated, and then nodded in as firm a way as he could muster.

Ripred took a few steps backward, keeping his eyes forever on Gregor, until he reached the opposite wall, around a dozen feet away. Above them, twilight was just beginning its descent over the broken city, and anyone of a sound mind was making their way hastily out of the streets before dark. Gregor noted nonchalantly that his mother would begin to worry if he didn't return home soon, but right now all that concerned him was Ripred, as the giant rat began his sad story.

"Four months ago, Luxa turned sixteen, officially old even to take the Regalian throne. Within the first few days she had made more of an impact on that city both politically and realistically than I had seen since long before her parents' death. It was strange, seeing something so organized after all the chaos. Especially in humans."

He took a long pause. Gregor could no longer make out his face beneath the hood, but by his body language the human made a guess that he was contemplating whether the next statement would come back to hurt him.

Finally, Ripred continued. "Actually, I was really shocked. I never knew she could do it. She was really cut up, that first year after you left. Worse than I had ever seen her. I knew that you were blind when it came to anything when she was around, but I didn't know the river ran both ways. She must have really loved you." Gregor felt a great twinge of pain, wondering just how much turmoil had been inside Luxa when he had gone, and destroying himself for never considering it before. He had been selfish, consumed by his own anguish, not awake enough to worry about her.

Ripred saw the pain in him, and mercifully decided to change the subject, something strangely unlike him. "She pulled it together after a while. I helped her out a bit. A tail twitch here, a mean glare there. It's what bonds do for each other, pull through hard times.

"Over time since the war we gnawers actually grew into unsteady peace. We could pass _freely_ where we wished, as long as we kept our parts of the bargain. We didn't have to squabble after food and fight amongst ourselves for mangy scraps. We were a _people_, and it was because of the humans, of peace, because of Luxa!

"There was a place for us then we didn't even understand. We were accepted, not attacked. We were respected, not feared. And for the first time in existence, we had allies, instead of petty minions.

"And so there we were. Humans, fliers, crawlers, nibblers, shiners and gnawers actually in an _alliance_. Seven species, Gregor! We were strong! Unbeatable!" At this point the heaving rat paused for breath, staring off in the distance to collect his thoughts. Gregor's fear plummeted even farther down, a feat he had previously thought impossible, as he realized that the worst part of the story was coming now.

And come it did. "And that's when the cutters came on us. They were fast, they were collected, they were smart." Ripred groaned softly, thinking. "They were out there, those five years, but we never thought they would come back at us. We were too many, too strong.

"We never just accounted for their sheer _numbers_. And when they attacked, they didn't care what it took. They had to end our threat. They had to protect themselves, per se. Cutters fight as a collective, as a single mind. If the hive doesn't need it, it happens not. If the hive wills it dead, dead it becomes. When they came it didn't matter how many died, as long as they completed their objective." He stopped abruptly, leaving a gaping space where an explanation was needed.

"And what was their objective?" Gregor asked, sounding stupid but no longer caring.

"To take the source of our victory," Ripred answered. "To take our soul. To take our pride. To take her."

For the first time, Gregor lifted his eyes to stare mournfully into the rat's hood. "And she's gone." It wasn't a question.

For a moment, he was so caught up in his agony that he thought tears might actually take him, after having left him for so very long. Nothing could compare to this pain. Nothing.

She was gone.

He didn't cry, couldn't. He couldn't sob, cry out, or even moan. His pain couldn't be expressed in words. There was nothing in his world. Only pain, anguish, denial, and more pain.

Living in a world without her had been one thing. Living in a world when she didn't live on in another was cruelly torturing.

For several long moments he sat there, unable to weep, unable to mourn except in his mind. Finally, he looked up to Ripred, who still stood against the wall, staring down at him with what seemed like pity and remorse and regret all piled into one. Gregor felt so blank he didn't know what the rat saw when he looked. He was beyond being curious about that, though.

"Why did you come?" Gregor asked, his face painfully calm and straight. "Is this all? To give me another reason to jump off the nearest cliff? Do you really hate you that much?"

He expected an angry response. Almost welcomed it. Maybe enough provocation would insult the rat enough to get them both in a fight, one Gregor knew he would lose, but perhaps that was exactly what he wanted. To die. Finally.

But the rat didn't move. In the slightest.

And for a long moment it stayed that way. Man and rat. Deeper. Rager and rager. Staring back and forth as if nothing in the world existed except for the living hell in their souls. No New York City, no Underland. Nothing. And. No. Freaking. Luxa.

But finally, Ripred let out a pent up breath and issued the deepest growl from the hardest part of the back of this throat. "Why the hell do you think I came here? To get you!"

"Why?"

"So we can go get her!"

Somewhere in the deepest pit of Gregor's chest, the muscle once called his heart let out a faint flicker in the darkness that was his soul, and he took in a breath so sharply he had to gag it out in reflex. "What? She's still alive?"

Ripred crossed his paws in front of him. "If she wasn't, do you really think I would tell you this? Do you really think I'm that heartless?"

"Yes."

"Well, I've heard worse."


	5. 4: Forced Removal

**A spectacular thanks to ****Seraphania**** for her review. You guys should check out her Gregor fic. It's brilliant. Just scroll up or down or whatever 'til you see her name. Shower her in glory. And if you don't like it, go get your head checked.**

**Sorry about short chapter 3. I was frantic to get it up, so I let off on the focus a bit. Anyway, here's chapter 4. Enjoy! And please R & R, no matter what you have to say!**

**Disclaimer: Yep, hell froze over last week, so it's all mine! Kidding...**

**4**

**Forced Removal**

These days, Gregor got to the point, fast, quick, whatever you wanted to call it.

Usually, at this point, the average person would break down crying once they realized that the person they loved was still alive after they had believed them to be gone from the world permanently. Gregor, however, broke any remaining ice by coming out and nearly screaming at his rat companion, "Why the hell didn't you just tell me that in the first place?!"

Ripred didn't move, only lifted his arms from where they sat crossed against his outrageously large chest. "Well, that would have been confusing to you."

"No, it wouldn't!" Gregor snarled in retort, climbing hastily to his feet to challenge Ripred at as close a level as he could. "That would have saved me a whole lot of pain a few moments ago by just coming out with that."

Ripred shrugged in annoyance. "Like what, 'Oh, Gregor, Luxa's been kidnapped by rabid cutters, let's go get her'? Would that have bloody worked?"

"Yeah!" Gregor cried out. "That would have been a good start."

Ripred held his arms out in a calming gesture, only to get the human boy's blood boiling in the downward direction. "Fine. My mistake. Sit back down. Let's go and talk through this now." To emphasize his wish, the giant rat slowly lowered his massive bulk to the ground.

Gregor above, however, hesitated for a long moment. Never before, in his recollection, had Ripred ever admitted a mistake. Never. Except perhaps with Lizzie, but that was understandable, given the circumstances. And on a second note, he suddenly felt nothing but an irresistible compulsion to run towards Grand Central Park (or what was left of it, at least), tear of the block of stone that separated the surface world from the Underland, and sprint headlong into cutter territory until he found Luxa.

Frozen he remained, until he remembered something his father had once told him. Long, long ago, from the short passage of time between his missions with the prophecies of Gray and Bane, respectively.

His father had told him, "There are very few things in this world that one cannot control with practice. Even more so with emotions. We can tame happiness, glumness, rage, and even hate. But never, _never_ can we control love."

Gregor had asked why, astounded and confused.

"Why?" his father had responded. "Anger can be reigned in. Glee can be contained. But love... love is a monster so beautiful and so rewarding it is the foremost in our thoughts at every living moment, but it can also drive us to do the things that lead to our destruction, without thought, without conscious action. It can destroy us, Gregor. Even as we love it like nothing else."

Only now, five years after those wise words had been uttered to him, did Gregor finally understand. Sinking into reluctant and torturing submission, he slowly returned to his sitting position against the wall.

"So?" he whispered numbly, glaring across at his cloaked counterpart.

"So," Ripred repeated.

"Why do you need me?"

"Quite simple actually," Ripred replied, his voice unbelievably even. "Regalia itself wants to rip itself out of its rock to run off after its queen in a desperate rescue attempt. You don't want to know how desperate its soldiers are. Vikus is having the hardest time keeping them in check. Add that to his considerable age and his own worry for Luxa, and you get one serious migraine destined for destruction. Howard's ready to charge into the cutters alone, not even caring whether he comes back in sixty-three uneven pieces." His incredible sarcasm played out even in this dark time, Gregor noticed. Dark humor, something he had never grasped and probably never would. (After all, one needed humor to first experience dark humor.)

Ripred continued, "The only problem is, defending our territory against cutters is one thing. Invading cutter territory... that's another thing entirely."

"Why?"

Ripred snapped his head back to glare at Gregor. "When humans or gnawers assemble, they come by the hundreds, or maybe thousands if they're lucky. Cutters arrive by the _millions_, believe it or not. To take out a cutter army is like a nibbler mating with a spinner. Incompatible by mere comprehension."

"But we've done it before," Gregor insisted, recalling a solemn day long in the past amongst the vines, a day with Howard and Ripred and Ares and Luxa...

Enough.

Shaking his head, Ripred growled, "Truth be told, no idea how we pulled through that. Personally, I believe it was my pure skill, some royal fighting ability, and a bit of amateur raging on your part that just struck all gold that day."

Gregor accepted the insult without comment. He had more important things to worry about.

"So getting in to that place to get her back is pure impossibility? Then how do you know she's alive?" A pang of fear struck the place where his heart should have lied.

"If she weren't, the cutters probably would have attacked us by now. Plus, they don't need her dead. Just out of the way." At Gregor's left raised eyebrow, he added, "Cutters don't work the same way as we do. If they only have to do a certain thing, they only do that certain thing to as much as they need to do it, and not one tiny bit more. They have Luxa out of our forces, which means she cannot lead us, which automatically throws into us disorientation, confusion, fear, panic, and chaotic anarchy. A completely easy target. Plus, they probably realize that in the event we somehow manage to put up a sizable fight, they will have her as a bargaining chip for retreat or even surrender. If you were to ask me, I would say they probably have her to torture her for information, but I doubt they'll get much out of her. She's strong. She won't give us out."

"But they have her," Gregor replied quietly, feeling his fists curl into balls. "And she's being tortured."

In the limits of his restraint, he felt his rager side start to build up, the side that he could now control. Somehow, Ripred sensed his effect, and stiffened visibly. "Control it!" the rat urged forcefully. "Control your rage!"

Gregor bowed his head to his knees and pounded his forehead into his legs a few times to release the sudden surge of desperation. After a few moments, the harsh emotions finally began to subside, and he could look up again. "You still haven't answered my question."

"This is a long explanation," Ripred snarled in shaming retort. "Learn you patience, boy. Never did it in the past, do it now." Before Gregor could reply again, the rat launched finally into an answer.

"Long story short, if any of them, or all of them, go after Luxa in the Cutter Lair, none of them or too few to count will come back. There are select few people in this, or under this, world that could get in and get out without dying. One of them is me." Ripred looked up at Gregor with expectant eyes. "Another is you."

Gregor felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he kept the rest of his reaction in check. "I thought you believed me to be undisciplined, useless, get-the-hell-out-of-my-way-before-you-hurt-someone sort of person. You opinion has changed quite quickly, it seems."

Ripred waited for a silence to ensue before responding. "At one time, I might have thought you that way. But it seems that your most recent time up year has finally showed you a thing or two about life, in a horrible way, but a surprisingly educational one. Maybe you've finally begun to grow up a bit." There was a hint of something small in his voice, so small it was hard to identify. Gregor momentarily interpreted it to be pride, or praise, but he dismissed that thought as quick as it arrived.

"But you still want me?" he asked, skepticism still practically dripping off of his disbelieving tone.

"Gregor," Ripred replied softly, "I could take Howard, but the first cutter he saw would rip off his head from ten feet away. I could take Hazard, dumb as that would be, but he would die just looking at the beasts. I could take Mareth, even with one leg, but even he wouldn't get past the first few creatures. I could take the whole damn Regalian army, but even they wouldn't go far enough to make the slightest difference. The truth is, I don't need any of them. I need another rager.

"I need _you_."

Gregor didn't know how to react. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he _should_ say. Whatever he was supposed to be doing, he was drawing a complete blank. He had lost all comprehension after the word "need".

Finally, though, he found his reply, just as he was climbing to his feet, ready to go anywhere it took.

Looking over to the rat straight in the eye, he said, "Then let's go."

He was already turning to depart the alley as the words left his lips, but before he could go more than two steps Ripred had someone flown in front of him, moving faster than Gregor had thought he could. "Let's not be too hasty," Ripred growled, laying a hard paw on Gregor's chest in restraint, causing the human to stop abruptly with one foot hanging in the air.

Setting it back on the ground, Gregor snarled, "If she is in danger, then we go _now_. No delay." He moved to walk around the rat, but once more Ripred stepped in front.

"_Think_, boy. Now is not the time for rushing. Now is the time for planning."

Gregor leaned in and up, so that their faces were mere inches apart. "Do you think I'm just gonna wait here? She could be dying, Ripred! Right now. Any second we delay gives them another chance to run a stray pincher through her heart." He had already begun trembling as the memory popped up. Controlling himself, he added, "We go now, while there is still time."

He hadn't really expected his words to change anything, and he wasn't disappointed. Ripred didn't budge an inch.

Leaning even closer, so that Gregor could feel the rat's dense and horribly musky breath on his face, Ripred grumbled, "Do you honestly think you're the only one who wants her back? I'm not saying that I too don't want to run right in and pull her out of their claws. But what you must realize now is that if there is one person in this world who cares about Luxa more than you, it is I. I am her bond.

"If you truly mean to rescue her, give her a chance. Plan out your attack. If they wanted her dead, like I've said, she would already be so. Give her time. She _will_ survive."

Neither moved. Glaring into each other's eyes they searched deep for a compassion that rivaled their own, and questioned each other's intentions to the brink of insanity. Finally, Gregor backed off, holding up a hand in surrender.

Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself. "What do we do, then?"

"First, we go to Regalia," Ripred answered grimly. "There we coordinate an attack, analyze their weaknesses, look for focal points, and try to guess exactly where they are hiding her."

Gregor nodded, dropping his gaze to the cobblestone dirt beneath their feet, trying to lose his anger in the complex patterns. "Then let us go."

"I believe you're missing a step," Ripred stated, his tone even and sharp.

"I beg your pardon?"

With hesitation, Ripred affirmed his mind aloud. "Don't you believe you should tell your family where you are off to?"

Gregor looked up with shocked and horrified eyes, regarding Ripred in a form of delusional speculation. "Are you crazy?" he hissed out quietly. "Do you think they'll actually let me go if they know I'm going?!"

Any other person might have taken a step back in surprise and fear, but not Ripred. "Don't you think you should say goodbye? Just in case you don't come back?"

"I would have to be completely out of my mind," Gregor retorted quickly. "To tell them would be like personally committing suicide. Do you know what my mother would do if I ever even thought about going back down there in her presence?"

"Disown and castrate you, more likely than not," Ripred replied humorlessly.

Gregor pulled a grimacing face. "To put it lightly."

"Even so, the chances of you returning may be smaller than the opposite. To just disappear and never return would be catastrophic for them. Besides, they would probably know where you went, and then your father and Lizzie would come after you."

Gregor was about to cry back an insult when he realized Ripred was perfectly right. His family _would_ know where he had gone. Where else _could_ he go, except down? It would be painstakingly obvious, and the predicted outcome would then most certainly come true.

The light in Ripred's argument was now clear, but Gregor suddenly was faced with a challenge: he now had to go and speak with his family about his decision. But what would he say, and how would they react?

Ripred saw the change of his mind in his eyes, and took a step back in sympathetic encouragement. "You don't want to do it. Nobody would want to do it. But it has to be done."

Gregor stared straight back for a moment, contemplating exactly what he had to do, and then gave a slow, solemn nod. He quickly walked to the end of the alley and poked his head out into the now-dark street.

It was deserted. Anyone smart enough to survive stayed inside at night in today's New York City, and they were wise. Only criminals and thugs came out after dusk, and they traveled in packs. Apparently, Gregor wasn't so wise. He traveled in the dark. Alone.

But not tonight.

Over his shoulder, he murmured back to Ripred, "Let's go get this done." Focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other, he set off towards his home, which he now grudgingly noted was in the opposite direction of Central Park.

The walk was long, and it was not one Gregor was looking forward to. With a cloaked Ripred following mere steps behind he felt as if an enormous shadow was descending upon him, full of rage and despair and blankness.

Neither of them said a word. Gregor kept his face straight down on the broken sidewalk. He knew Ripred was looking out for any possible enemies, and he had to think of how he would explain all of this to his family. He almost wished some thug would just jump out and attack, if only for the weak distraction.

The thirteen and a half blocks to his weak home were gone far too soon, disappearing as Gregor's mind reeled and twisted, looking for anything that would get him out of his situation. Weak excuses and fantastic lies rushed to his head, but he dismissed them all, knowing that the only thing his parents, and his conscience, would accept, was the truth.

And then he was standing on the threshold of his front door, still completely at a loss for what he was going to tell his parents. Ripred remained hovering feet behind, waiting for Gregor to make the first move.

For a few seconds, they just stood there, man and rat, both staring straight at the wood of the door. The pause was lengthy and uncomfortable, but finally Gregor half-turned to Ripred and declared, "I think you should wait out here. I _think_ Lizzie and Boots are asleep, but... but if they're not, I would think it better that you don't just pop up all of a sudden."

Ripred nodded solemnly, not putting up an argument or even making a comment on the subject. He only muttered, "I'll wait around the corner," and walked away, leaving Gregor once more staring at the cold barrier of the last five years of his life.

With a trembling hand, he reached out and grasped the doorknob firmly, taking as long as he could manage to turn it in its place. It was unlocked, luckily, although it only proved again that his mother had not yet done it for him, and it struck as another painful reminder of what he was sentencing his family to in his immediate absence.

_Can't turn back now_, he reminded himself.

Difficultly, he pushed the creaky door open and took his steps inside, closing the door behind him. He walked slowly down the bare white hallway, dreading the next few moments with a great magnitude of thought.

He walked into the dark kitchen to find both of his parents sitting at the small, round kitchen table, illuminated only by the glow of a single candle resting on the middle of the piece of furniture.

His mother looked up on his entry, her parched face lighting up as her eyes came to rest in his. Giving a cry of relief and leaping up from the table, she leaped to envelop him in a hug, screaming, "Where were you?! We were worried sick!"

His father stood from the table, not rushing in like his wife. He only stood with a look of profound exhaustion, one that so often found itself on his face in later years. He was far skinnier than he had any right to be, as was his wife and all of their children, but that was of course the way they had all looked for the past half-decade.

It took Gregor's mother a few moments to realize that her son was not returning her embrace, and suddenly she pulled back to examine his grimacing face. "What is it? What's wrong, Gregor?"

"Mom, sit down. We need to talk."

His mother looked both perplexed and horrified, but she didn't try to argue and unwillingly sank back into her chair at the table as Gregor rounded it to face both of his parents. Taking a deep breath in preparation for his attempt to wing his entire explanation, he was abruptly interrupted by his father before he could even start speaking.

"You're going back, aren't you?"

By the light of the candle, Gregor watched as an indignant look of recognition and realization settled in on his father's face. Astounded that such a guess could be made but suddenly feeling much easier, Gregor looked down at the flame of light on the table and reluctantly nodded his head.

For a moment everything was silent. And then, "WHAT?!?!"

Before either man could stop her, Gregor's mother had leaped to her feet, rounded the table, and seized Gregor by the arms, shaking him and throttling, as if somehow she could throw sense into him by strangling. "Are you out of your mind?! Are you joking?! You can't go back!! After all we went through, you still want to go back?! I thought you were finally getting in, moving on and accepting!! I thought we were past this!! You can't go back!!"

"Mom!" Gregor shouted over her din, silencing her for an explanation. "Mom. I don't have a choice. I really don't. I have to go----"

"NO YOU DON'T! You don't have to go back! You have to stay here, with the family! You have responsibilities, you have a job! You have a life to live!"

"Mom," Gregor pleaded, trying to get her calm. "They took Luxa. They took her. I have to rescue her. I have to. I don't know what I would do if she were to die. I just can't let her be tortured."

"But if you go back down there I know that you will never come back!" his mother screamed in his face. "Luxa was so long ago, and now should you know if she's in danger?!"

Gregor grunted dismissively. "Unimportant, but----"

"No!" she screeched back at him. "Not unimportant!! Nonexistent!! I will not accept some petty excuse for you to go down and see some five-year old crush that means nothing, and then never come back up to me again!! You will _never_ go back!! Mark, tell him!"

Mother and son looked expectantly over at Gregor's father, waiting for the response. For a moment, Mark was completely silent, staring glumly back into his son's face with a strange face Gregor couldn't identify. And finally, with a hesitant sigh, he finally coughed once and stated, "I can't tell him what to do, Grace. He's fighting for his soul. We have no right to interpose there."

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" Gregor's mother fumed, turning on her husband. "He is our _son_! Are you going to watch him throw away his life over some fantasy girl----"

"Momma, what's going on?"

Everyone froze, not daring to move a muscle. Then, slowly, agonizingly, each head swiveled slower than a snail to face the direction of the staircase, dreading to find what they all knew would be there.

Boots had come to investigate the gigantic noise.

Gregor stared mortified at his seven-year-old sister, from where she stood in her sky blue sleeping dress at the foot of the stairs. Her curly brown hair had fallen around her face in her sleep, giving her a cute complexion, but her entire expression was encompassed by worry at the scene, and, despite Gregor's every reaction shouting hoarsely at him to look away, he couldn't take his eyes off the sad sight.

For a long time, no one said anything. After the pause had passed through awkward and jumped into stupidly horrifying, however, Grace finally put on a fake but caring smile and said, "Nothing, honey. Gregor, your father, and I are just discussing something important. Go back to bed."

Boots shook her head, swinging curls over her cheeks as she did. "But you were shouting, Momma."

"Boots," her mother warned, hardening her gaze. "Go back to bed. Now. Please."

But Boots instead ran to Gregor, clinging to his waist. "Where you goin', Gregor?"

At the same time, their mother turned on their father and said, "How can you support him?! He isn't thinking straight!"

"No, Grace," his father replied calmly. "I think you don't know _anything_ about how he's thinking. You don't understand what Luxa means to him, and even though I don't know what he's on about, I know he has to go."

"So you're just going to let him walk out our door?!"

"If it's what he must do!"

"What'll happen to us?! Boots? Lizzie? They need him, Mark!"

"Well, maybe it's time we shouldered his burden and let him get on with the life he was destined to lead!" His father was breathing heavy now, weakly clutching one side, but his eyes were a fiery blaze, and they were bared brutally at Gregor's mother. "He doesn't have to stay here, where there is nothing, Grace. He has a chance to go and be happy! Down there!" With a rough finger, he pointed harshly downward, never tearing his eyes from his wife's mortified face.

Boots had begun to cry, and was trying hard to bury her face in Gregor's arms. Her brother scooped her up and tried to quiet her gently, rocking her back and forth softly and muttering in her ear. "It's okay, it's okay." All the while, though, his eyes were trained on his two warring parents.

And Mark wasn't finished. "We have nothing, now, Grace. Nothing. Only our three children. That is all we have to live for now. To make their lives better." With a soft moan, he turned his eyes on Gregor. "Right now, all Gregor can do to better his life is to go where his heart calls. And it's calling him there."

Grace rounded on her son as well, who was now staring at his father with a sort of shocked gratitude. "But you can't go!" she urged, sobbing herself now. "I can't lose my only son!"

She walked forward, her arms desperately outstretched for him, but before they could enfold around Gregor he had placed Boots in her open arms and stepped harshly back before Grace could react to his quick move.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he crowed softly, fighting agony, begging to rush from the horrible scene. "I can't stay. I have to go. I'm so sorry."

He turned and walked for the front door as fast as he could. He made it out of the kitchen and down the hallway before anything else could be said, but when he placed his hand on the door to the outside world his mother had caught up in the doorway behind. "So that's it, then," she murmured loudly enough for him to hear. "You're going to just walk out on us. Leave us behind. Your sisters, your father, me. All alone. Just like that."

Gregor froze horribly, considering her words and the consequences of his immediate future actions. He didn't want to turn, didn't want to see the look of bitter disappointment and betrayal on the face of his mother, the tears of confused horror on young Boots, or the grim determination and acceptance of his father.

He took a deep breath. "Mom. I love you. I would do anything for you. I would go to the ends of the world for you and back, and you know it.

"But for Luxa... for Luxa I would go to the ends of the world... and jump off."

Gregor opened the door and walked away, letting it close quietly behind him.

**For the sake of repeating myself, I'll say REVIEW!!!!! And if you don't, you will die horribly in 3 seconds! Ready? 1... 2... 3! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!**


	6. 5: A Path Walked Twice

**Thanks to: ****Sum Vi3t Kid**** and ****Guy13511****, those whom reviewed on the past chapter but which I forgot to include. My most humble apologies. Also to ****alec-alumina****, ****pomplamouse****, and ****shadowblade546****.**

**School is finally catching up to me, so I might not be able to update as often anymore. (Not like you guys care, though, right?)**

**Anyway, for those of you still faithfully r&ring, here's chapter 5. Hopefully a little more explanatory than the last few.**

**Disclaimer: Um... duh.**

**5**

**A Path Walked Twice**

Ripred joined him silently as Gregor rounded the corner and set up resolutely in the direction of Central Park. A silent aura of misery hung around Gregor, and the rat didn't say anything to disturb it.

Gregor vowed to thank him later. Silence was bliss, and don't anyone forget it.

The entire trek to Central Park passed in agonizing memories for Gregor, as every image of he and his family flashed before his eyes as every footstep fell upon the ground. Also enflaming his thoughts was the cold, hard truth that he would probably never set foot in his home again, regardless of whether or not he survived the upcoming endeavor.

As on the walk to his home, Ripred shadowed him a few steps behind, ever watching for evil and keeping an eye on Gregor himself. He didn't know the turmoil inside the boy, but he had a pretty good idea about it and figured it wasn't something he wanted to dive headlong into. No matter how much help was wanted to give, it was a burden carried alone.

The night was nearly silent, a luxury so unknown to the big city at this day in age. Gregor decided to take it as an omen, a dark hint that perhaps he was making a big mistake. He didn't care anyway, because he was not going to change his mind.

Halfway down the long road that he couldn't help but imagine was the last street of his life, Gregor half turned his head over his shoulder and muttered, "Not even curious as to how it went?"

Ripred shrugged in a way that somehow conveyed both inner sympathy and shared grief. "I think that's rather obvious.

Gregor grunted in response and turned his attention back to the hard street beneath his feet, kicking stones to take his mind off of anything but what he was soon about to attempt.

A long few moments passed in relative silence, before Ripred coughed once. "If it matters to you, I think they'll forgive you for that."

Any farther in the past, and Gregor would have laughed. "I really don't think there's a 'they'. It's more of a 'her' and then, in the background, 'them'."

"Ah. So you're father backed you?"

"To a point."

"And your sisters were unaware?"

"Lizzie was."

"And the princess?"

Gregor allowed a short silence to transcend, gathering his own thoughts in pain of that solemn moment when he had last seen Boots' face. He opened his mouth for a response, sighed instead, and then finally decided it was best just to be honest with himself, much less Ripred. "I don't think she understood. But she will. And she's too young to even consider forgiving me."

Abruptly, he stopped walking. Ripred halted immediately as well, neither increasing nor decreasing the distance between them. Slowly, Gregor turned to face his rat accomplice.

And in an undertone, he said, "If it my family take me back someday, I just lost my sister. Forever."

He took off once more down the street, faster than before, anxious to put as much distance between himself and the life he was leaving, never to return to (one way or another). He no longer cared if Ripred kept up; he only had a mind for getting the hell away, as fast as possible.

_Some day you've had_, he reluctantly thought to himself as his pace increased from a quick walk to somewhere near a steady jog. _Ten hours ago, hell, FIVE hours ago you still thought you would die protecting the family that you had destroyed. Look at this now: you're leaving that family to die in order to run off and rescue some girl from your distant past that might not even be alive anymore._

Even as the final contemplation formed, a second voice in the center of his mind screamed back at him. _What are you thinking? You have no responsibility to your family that you have not already paid._

_To parents who gave you life you can never repay your debt_, his agony shot back.

_And what do you owe Luxa? Nothing? How many times did she save your life, Gregor?_

Honestly, he answered himself, _Too many. Too many that I have never repaid. But that doesn't matter. I just left four defenseless people to die in a horrible city because I'm chasing after a broken heart. And it's too late now. I can't go back._

_Do you think that's what this is? A choice between Luxa and your family?_

_What else is it?_ For a brief moment, Gregor wondered just how mental he had gone, realizing that he was arguing completely with himself. Before he could answer farther, however, his opposition responded.

_Um, let's see... This is the love of your life here, dying, and on the other hand here's your family, who's hanging off of your shoulder because they've gotten too used to someone doing their own stuff for them._

_What the hell do you expect?! Do you forget what happened?! Do you not remember their scars?_

After the mental equivalent of a pause, the reply came. _Do you not remember yours?_

Gregor unconsciously reached for his neck, before realizing that the scars referenced were not from humans. With a now-trembling hand, he felt over his chest, where long-covered slash marks still burned white on his skin from the claws of a very white rat.

Shaking, he said, _But that was because I _chose _to fight, not because I had to._

_No. They were because you wanted to protect _her_._

_And Vikus, and Mareth, and Howard, and Hazard----_

_No. It was because of her._

And for some reason, Gregor believed it. Consciously, he had been doing his duty for Regalia, but all of a sudden, he realized that the dumb voice in his head was right: he had done all of his duties, all of his kills, all of the things he regretted and rectified----all so that he could live on, and know that she was happy and safe.

And now he had to get her back.

But did that constitute and justify leaving his family alone in arguably the most dangerous city in the world?

_Does it?_ he solemnly asked the persuading voice.

It didn't answer. It had gone.

And all of a sudden, Gregor realized where he was standing, and that he had also been standing erect in that position for the better part of his silent and mental argument. In Central Park.

In front of the gateway to another world.

He had been standing there for a long time, he acknowledged. Ripred still stood at the same distance from him, behind him, remaining silent and patient with an aura Gregor had not previously known he possessed. But it didn't change the situation. His soul was still in turmoil. His family was still in danger. Life still sucked. And worst of all, he didn't even know if Luxa still had a life.

Letting out a heaving sigh, Gregor felt his knees buckle.

Ripred caught him as he fell, under the shoulders, neither easing him toward the ground nor pulling him back to his feet. Just suspending him upright as he retched in agony, threatening to implode at any given moment. Gregor didn't acknowledge the contact, relieve it, or even feel it. He was too far gone for any of that.

For over a minute, they remained like that, rat holding human. It was long and weary, but neither moved. And, finally, Ripred growled and shouted, "Oh, for the love of the river!"

He dropped Gregor to the ground, where the boy landed moaning in the dirt. Taking an angry few steps back, the rat began to circle him. As he went, he began to shake his head beneath the massive hood.

"What is wrong with you, boy?" the rat grunted furiously. "What happened? Five years ago, you would already be over this and have stormed the stronghold already? What did this place do to you?"

From the ground, Gregor rolled onto his back and suffered a coughing fit before he was able to reply. "What happened to _you_? For a while back there you understood! Now what's this? I just bloody lost my _family_!"

"Yeah!" Ripred screamed back, sarcasm dripping like water from his hardened voice. "Because I know _nothing_ about that!" Gregor was subdued quickly into silence, and Ripred took the chance to continue. "Gregor, you've made your decision! You're right, you can't go back. Now _live with it_! That's all you can do!"

He halted his shouting spree, and only the ragged breathing of both broke the tension of the moment.

Slowly, Gregor calmed down. He regained his breath. Thought of the situation. Considered the rat's words. And, finally, he got up.

When still no reply came, Ripred added, "Your family will not be alone. They will have my miniature relatives to watch over them."

"What good will that do?" Gregor replied bitterly. Although, not as bitter as before.

"You'd be surprised."

Despite his trust in Ripred, Gregor was skeptical. A bunch of little rats protecting his family from New York City. But, they were better than nothing, and his trust in Ripred had never been misplaced. And so, Gregor believed him.

And ten thousand pounds were magically lifted from the human's shoulders.

Resolutely, Gregor stood up straighter, firmer, and said, "Enough talk. Enough emotion. Let's go get her."

He turned around and walked up to the massive stone pothole that served as an entrance to the sewers, which in turn led, through a series of massive cave chain formations and tunnels, to Regalia, the human capital of the Underland.

Not even waiting for Ripred, Gregor reached down and attempted to pry off the barrier, heaving and gasping in effort. Seconds later, he was joined in his struggle, and, bit-by-bit, the two companions, in the dark, in the park, managed to lug the giant stopper out of the hole, revealing a large expanse of darkness that led to what they knew as the Underland.

Gazing down into the hole, Ripred murmured, "You _do_ remember echolocation. Right?"

In answer, Gregor quickly let out a series of sharp _clicks_ with his tongue, and, once confirming that the sewer ground was exactly where it had been five years ago, he leaped down into its depths.

Ripred followed a few moments later, whipping off his cloak thankfully as he landed, his true form and size finally revealed. The bulk had ceased to change over the past half decade, leaving the same great beast Gregor remembered. Above them, by the rat's pull as he jumped, the pothole fell back into place, obscuring all light and leaving them in pitch darkness. Standing side-by-side in the darkness, Gregor asked dryly, "Where to from here?"

"Off to the Cutter Lair. We're gonna storm the whole complex from scratch." Reading Gregor's confused but eager expression in the dark, he groaned and snarled, "Where do you think? Regalia! Honestly, how you managed to survive all of those conflicts..."

"I'm very lucky," Gregor replied as he turned in the direction he remembered as being the correct way.

"Evidently."

Verifying that they were alone in the tunnel expanse, Gregor inquired, "How are we getting there? Walking?"

"Hell, no!" Ripred replied with an uncommon guffaw. "I've got some fliers out down that tunnel there." He gestured off in the distance, Gregor following his movement with _clicks_.

As he followed the motion, Gregor gave an uneasy shudder, remembering the last time he had ridden easily on a flier. It had been long, long ago, on a great friend, a great comrade, but once again lost to death, like so many others...

_No more pain!_ Gregor screamed at himself. _No more emotion. You have to focus. You're weak. Get stronger. _Now.

He hid his grimace, and began to follow Ripred as the massive rat set off in the indicated direction. Jogging for a moment to catch up, he soon came alongside his companion, who broke the silence immediately. "I know it brings back pain, but fliers really _are_ the fastest way----"

"It doesn't matter," Gregor interrupted. "I'm fine." At the incredulous look he perceived in the dark, he added, "A little unpleasant, that's all. I had to cope with his death a long time ago. I'll get through it."

Ripred nodded and left it at that.

As if to mock the travelers, the trip this time seemed to take much longer than Gregor remembered, even though neither of them had the slightest trouble navigating in the dark, as they slowly made the descent from concrete, to soft dirt, to soft rock, and finally to hard stone that signified their descent into the Underland.

After they had walked in peace for longer than Gregor cared to remember, they finally came to a prominent ledge at the far ends of the tunnel. Measuring with his _clicks_, Gregor found that the repercussions from the opposite wall were too bleak to really be accurate, and the ones downward failed to return at all.

It was evidently their destination.

"So... fliers?" Gregor asked curiously and slightly impatiently.

"Fliers," Ripred repeated, sending his own noises off into the distance for a few seconds before giving up. "They'll be here," he reassured, none too reassuringly. "Give them time. Where did I put that bone?" He reached inside the fur of his stomach, producing a bone of identifiable origins. Instantly, he began to gnaw on it, rubbing away at his teeth prominently.

Ignoring the previously unknown fact that Ripred kept his possessions buried deep in his fur, Gregor turned back to the massive cavern, waiting as patiently as he could for the designated fliers.

Just as he had begun to pace, teetering on the cliff's ledge, he heard Ripred dislodge his teeth from the bone and exclaim triumphantly, "Ah! In good time!"

By the quick sound of beating and soaring wings, Gregor quickly gathered the picture of the bats, or, rather, as he found out as he turned and made his own mental illustration, _bat_. Color was indeterminable by echo, but he could see, by hearing, that the landing bat was large, perhaps even considered extremely large for a flier, with a full head-to-toe height of maybe eight or nine feet. His wings were even longer, spanning a distance the upwards of seven or eight yards. His fur was tousled and scruffy, but his ears and eyes were deeply set, confident, and his mouth was contorted into the flier equivalent of a smile.

Gregor supposed because of its size that it had been sent alone, to carry them both. Ripred, however, slashed that thought by almost screeching, "What happened to Liitan?"

The massive bat landed and instantly began to shuffle his feet uncomfortably. In a gravelly voice that quivered with uneasiness, the male flier replied, "Young Liitan began to feel anxiety towards the dark. He put up with it for a while, but eventually decided it wasn't worth his position to wait out here for you. He flew back to Regalia almost an hour ago."

Ripred growled deep in his throat. "He will pay for his insubordination. Can you carry us both?"

"Indeed!" The bat turned to face Gregor now, a slight look of awe entering his expression as he bowed low. "Greetings, great warrior! It is as your humble servant I present myself to you. I am Equinox, and I come to serve!"

Gregor felt a slight twinge of memory as he returned the bow. "The warrior was killed long ago, my grand friend. I'm only Gregor now." He grimaced, and added, "And please, you aren't required to be my servant or anything."

"Nevertheless, Overlander!" Equinox boomed. "I will serve you like I serve my own species."

Under his breath, sidling close to Gregor, Ripred whispered, "Don't be pulled in by his routine. He _is_ pleased and honored to see you, but don't go doing something you'll regret. I'll explain everything later."

Heeding the rat's words carefully, Gregor said, "That will not be necessary, Equinox, but I thank you heartily for the offer. It is my humblest honor to make your very wonderful acquaintance."

Ripred groaned in annoyance. "When did you get so poetic?" Turning to Equinox, he said, "Let's go. The Overlander and I have urgent business with the Viceroy."

Equinox nodded eagerly. "Then full speed to Regalia!"

He turned around, balancing on the ledge as first Gregor climbed onto his back, and then Ripred, waiting patiently for them to gain their rightful positions. After righting his own imbalance, the gigantic bat leaped gracefully off the ledge and into the dark expanse, letting them fall for an uncomfortable number of meters before finally unfurling his wings and catching a gust of air from parts unknown to gain flight.

For a few minutes, there was silence while Equinox got comfortable in the air, but after the silence lapsed into awkwardness, the bat, without provocation, launched into the thrilling tale of his life, starting with his birth only months before the conclusion of the war with the gnawers. Both Ripred and Gregor immediately went into lockdown mode, both trying to divert the flier's attention to the other rider as he continued with his endless tale, but soon enough it became clear to Equinox that he didn't have a captivated audience, and so, without taking offense, he mercifully cut off his tale.

And the ride continued in silence.

Ripred was busy chewing on his bone. Equinox continued to concentrate on his direction, never faulting under the intense weight. Gregor, the odd one out, found that he had nothing to either do with his hands or contemplate with his mind, other than concepts of which he would rather do nothing but forget quickly. So he spent his time running over meaningless puzzles and riddles in his head, diverting attention from the matters uncomfortably close at hand.

Until they rounded a far bend in the cavern labyrinth, and Gregor saw by his ears a massive crevice in the far rockface which he was certain had not been there the past time he had flown this route to the great Underland capital.

Gesturing off with his hand, he asked in general of his two companions, "What is that?"

Ripred looked off in the direction, _click_ing for his own emphasis, and then answered before Equinox got the chance to begin a ramble. "That is the place where the cutters broke through into our territory as they charged for Regalia, and also the tunnel they used for escape."

Gregor's chest clenched up as he realized where the newest Underland tunnel led. For a moment, he was seized by an undeniable urge to leap off of Equinox and rush headlong down its darkest corners, despite the fact that they were flying at least a hundred feet above the cavern floor.

As if sensing this, however, Ripred snatched up the back of Gregor's overcoat, holding him firmly in place from behind him. "Now is not the correct time or place. Have patience. God, boy, you smell something awful!"

Gregor took a deep breath and accepted the change of subject, choosing not to provoke another argument. He intentionally tore his gaze away from the hole in the wall, willing himself to move on.

And just in time.

They rounded a corner, and suddenly it was there. A gleaming city, with homes and towers and shops and stores, and everything Gregor had remembered, even more terrific in person than in his exaggerating mind. Here it was, the magnificent and luxurious city of Regalia.

The one place Gregor had never even hoped to see again in his life.


	7. 6: Impressions

**(Measurements too high to be calculated or comprehended) amounts of thanks to ****Seraphania****, ****alec-alumina****, ****shadowblade546**** and ****pomplamouse**** for their very appreciated and very quick reviews to the last chapter.**

**Chapter 6. Hmmmmmmm... Right now I haven't written it yet, but from what I'm planning it'll be shorter than I find comfortable. Oh, well, I have to leave it on a certain note, and I don't have enough time to throw anything else in between two actions. Anyways, Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Yes, Suzanne Collins decided to give ownership of her entire Underland Series to a teenage boy after losing a bet to her husband's friend's third uncle's second nephew's son, and I'm totally exploiting my new acquisition. Man, I wish that were true.**

**6**

**Impressions**

The route Equinox had taken to the city took them into view of it so that it was sprawled neatly out in front of them, with all virtues and extents in their eyesight. Taking it in, Gregor found that before he could stop himself he had already begun to name off places from his memory. _The palace. The training fields. The market. The stadium where I first came in... where I first saw Luxa..._

He stopped the line of thought, immediately switching tact and jumping to identify all flaws or inconsistencies in Regalia instead. He had wandered dangerously close to unwelcome territory.

The only thing, regrettably, that he noticed was different was a general line of destruction that covered the ground in practically a straight line, from where the tunnel they had entered from attached itself to the great city all the way to the palace, the line by which the cutters had invaded and desecrated the human settlement. A deep emotion of hatred sprang into his mind, wondering just how many innocent Regalians had died in the attack.

Looking for something to distract his suddenly hardened mind, Gregor muttered to Ripred, "Doesn't seem like it's changed much in five years."

"Appearances are deceiving," Ripred replied, while waving an arm out beyond Equinox's back. "Everything below us now is occupied by gnawers."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. Her majesty made a quick point that a gesture of trust should be made if our two species were to coexist. One of her first motions was to bring a group of gnawers to live here in Regalia, while in turn she sent a crowd of volunteering humans to live in our colonies."

Gregor gazed disbelievingly at the ground below, where he finally saw familiar backs of gnawers weaving in and out of the house alleys. "I never would have thought this possible."

Ripred laughed. "Neither would I, five years ago. But I've actually learned something. Times change. And sometimes they change for the better."

Gregor thought of Luxa and turned his stare up to the looming castle ahead. "And sometimes they don't," he countered quietly.

Ripred didn't respond.

Equinox turned a wing and began to fly to the left side of the castle, veering off to the familiar landing platform that Gregor remembered from his Underland days. He hoped silently that it would be deserted, or at the least less crowded than the last time he had been there. He wasn't in the mood for a large audience as he landed.

Luckily, he didn't have one.

Equinox furled in his wings and landed in a soft trot on the steady stone of the platform, grappling for a hold as he did. Once he had one, he arched his back lower so that Gregor and Ripred could hop off.

Turning back to the bat, Gregor said in a formal tone, "I thank thee, Equinox the flier. Your services were most appreciated." He topped the gratifying statement with a bow, of which Equinox returned deeply.

"It was my pleasure, Overlander," he said happily. "Feel free to call upon me any time you are in need!"

"You're dismissed, Equinox," Ripred growled impatiently. As the bat bowed again to the rat he added, "And find Liitan. He's in for a rough talk with myself and the Viceroy."

"Yes, my lord." Equinox spread his wings wide and took off into the dark Regalian sky, making his way off to the distance quite quickly to the flier sections of the city.

As they watched him go, Gregor muttered, "So you're a lord now."

"Hmm, yes," Ripred said. "It seems that being 'the rat' isn't enough to humans and fliers, so Luxa insisted on giving me a damn title. King was too much, and they wouldn't let it just be 'sir', so I chose this. Now I guess I gotta live with the dumb thing. Oh, well."

"You said you would explain something later?"

Ripred reached up a sharp paw to scratch his chin before answering. "Oh, yeah. Be careful with Equinox. He's got a good heart, and he's probably the biggest and strongest bat out there. But he's also very young, and all young fliers want to get bonds as soon as possible." He eyed Gregor uneasily from his peripheral vision. "You would make a very good candidate for that position, and Equinox has his ways of getting you to accept."

"Don't worry about me. I'm not planning on taking another bond anytime soon." A lump formed in Gregor's throat as he responded, thinking of his lost companion from long ago.

Ripred didn't comment.

After Equinox had disappeared from sight human and rat turned to meet their welcoming committee, composed of only three and all looking very solemn yet patient, standing off to one side as they waited for their friends. On the far left stood Vikus, grandfather of Luxa, diplomat of Regalia, wearing a forced smile despite the fact that the right side of his body was permanently paralyzed. Five years of growth on Gregor's part now made him look much smaller than he had before, even though the man may have shrunk naturally over time. He was clothed in a long magenta robe that spread from shoulders to toes, and it made him appear overexerted in the strangest of ways. He looked even older than the last time Gregor had seen him, and the Overlander didn't take that as a good sign.

On the right stood Mareth, one of the Regalian commanding generals and Gregor's closest Underland friends, leaning half-heartedly on a crutch due to the fact that he was missing a leg, amputated five years previously due to combat. His face looked hardened, more mature, in a way, from the look Gregor remembered from five years prior. He still had his soldier characteristic in his appearance, however, and it showed. He was clothed in basic civilian garb, none too showy as he was. He also didn't wear a smile like Vikus, but somehow he managed not to look completely miserable.

In the middle of the two stood Hazard, the cousin of Luxa, eleven years old and already growing to a good height. The young Halflander somehow managed to look both completely miserable and enraged at the same time, and Gregor didn't doubt that at any moment the boy might jump to fly after the enemy. For some reason, that bothered Gregor more than it had any right to.

Vikus stepped ahead of the others as Gregor took the initial few steps forward, smiling and bowing as low as his conditions and age permitted, which wasn't all that far in the slightest. "Welcome you, Gregor the Overlander. It has been a long time since last we were acquainted." He regained his height and took another step forward, putting out a hand to shake, a very uncommon custom in the Underland.

Gregor took the proffered hand and shook lightly, knowing that he would be unable to muster and answering smile even if he put in enough effort to try. "It's good to see you again, Vikus. I wish it were under better circumstances."

"As do I," Vikus agreed as they released hands. "Unfortunately, the river flows on without stopping for man, and so we do not choose the situations of our meetings." His smile lessened slightly and his eyes clouded over grimly, but if Gregor were not as acute as he was in observation he would not have noticed it.

As Vikus stepped back and moved to speak with Ripred, Gregor turned to the others. Before he could even react Mareth had captured him in a rib-crushing hug, leaving him gasping for breath as he tried to escape the death embrace. When he was finally released and lay heaving, Mareth still had not cracked a smile. "How's it been?" he asked the Overlander.

"Bad," Gregor said simply.

Mareth nodded, staring down at the ground. "I expected something like that. Nothing is going our way these days."

"I beg to differ," Gregor replied quietly. "I've never seen Regalia looking so alive, so boisterous, so elegant."

"Besides the great road of destruction leading from the edge over there to the palace?"

"Yes, besides that."

"What happened to your face?" Mareth gestured to his neck, indicating the scars on Gregor's.

"Cut myself shaving," Gregor lied, not wanting to enter that subject of discussion.

"On your neck?"

"Something like that."

For a moment, a wan grin found itself on the general's face. In another, however, it had once more disappeared, going off into the deep realms of his head where he had to fight hard and long to find it again.

Mareth, after another welcoming nod, moved out of the way. Sighing, Gregor turned to the final member of the welcoming committee, wondering whether or not he was enlightened about Hazard being there to greet him. When he turned to face the boy, grown to about halfway between elbow and shoulder height but not looking different in the slightest from his appearance five years previously, Hazard did not run forward or hold out a hand or even nod his head. He only stood roughly at attention, staring back at Gregor with the grimmest and most uncomfortable glare he had ever received, with the exception of a few from his mother.

After a few moments, the boy muttered out a dry greeting. "Gregor."

Gregor nodded and responded in kind. "Hazard."

They stood apart from each other, neither moving towards the other, ever watching and never moving. A slow and awkward silence seemed to settle upon the platform as Vikus and Ripred finished their discussion and turned to wait for Gregor to finish with his pleasantries. Which so happened to be not so pleasant.

And then abruptly, Hazard caved.

His face fell, his shoulders dropped, and even his posture swayed slightly, forcing him to adjust with a step behind. Looking up bitterly into the Overlander's face as Gregor cautiously took a step forward, Hazard garbled out, "They took her. Gregor, they took her."

"I know," Gregor said gently, trying to keep his own wounds in check. "I know."

"They took her." Hazard took several long breaths. "You have to get her back. You have to. You can't let her die, Gregor."

"I know, Hazard," Gregor said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. "I will, don't worry. I'll bring her back. I'll bring her home."

Hazard didn't seem to hear, instead dropping to his knees, hitting the ground hard just as Vikus came up. Catching his grandson, Vikus offered his silent diplomacy as the boy erupted into sobs. "Hazard, it's okay, it's alright. Don't be afraid. She will come back."

The boy didn't react, didn't respond, and Vikus turned grimly to Gregor just as he began to apologize. "Vikus, I'm sorry----"

"The fault is not yours," the old man replied sharply. "This has been building ever since her kidnap. Nothing you could have said or done could have prevented this. Do not blame yourself." He turned briskly to Ripred and Mareth. "I must tend to him. Can you take Gregor to the council chambers? The Viceroy and elders are in session."

"We'll take care of it," Ripred growled evenly.

Vikus nodded and half-led, half-dragged Hazard away from the scene, leaving Gregor staring guiltily at their retreating backs as they went. As the three watched, Ripred came to Gregor's side. "Vikus is right. Don't beat yourself up. We're all feeling like that. Just some of us hide it better than others." He sighed heavily, even for a rat. "This loss has effected us all much more than we care to admit, but to tell the truth, we're falling apart at the threads. We _need_ her back."

Gregor nodded, speechless. He could already see the minor extents of the damage. He was hesitant to see the more serious ones.

"Come," Mareth said, breaking the silence. "We have work to do."

He pulled Ripred and Gregor back to reality and began to lead the way slowly across the platform and up the nearest flight of steps, which led directly up and into the palace.

As they ascended, Gregor asked, "Where is Howard? I thought he would have been here to greet me as well."

"Many of our soldiers were injured in the attack here," Ripred replied distractedly. "Howard is now our chief physician in Regalia, and he is still tending to their injuries. Some were quite severe."

Gregor nodded, understandingly, just as they entered through the threshold of the great castle. The stone halls were strangely empty, devoid of life. Not even a stray messenger or servant could be seen. Every one of their footsteps echoed menacingly off of the walls, coming back to them in a monotonous way.

Just to break the silence, Gregor asked, "What are going to do right now?"

"Convene with the council," Ripred answered as they rounded a bend and entered a side atrium. "They're already in there starting to decide how best they are to proceed when we're on our way, and even what to do if we fail."

"They're that pessimistic?" Gregor asked incredulously.

"This is possible war, boy," Ripred replied, not looking back as they took a side chamber off of the atrium, entering a corridor brightly lit and made of white stone, leading to a stone door at the far end, which Gregor remembered as leading into the Regalian Council Chamber. "We have to be prepared for everything, even our failure."

Recalling another fact, Gregor inquired, "Who's this Viceroy everyone is talking about?"

Mareth, ahead, did a double take. Turning sharply to Ripred, who also suddenly looked uncomfortable, the general said disbelievingly, "You didn't tell him?"

"Tell me what," Gregor asked, mildly alarmed.

"Uh," Ripred stuttered, something he wasn't prone to doing. Both the rat and Mareth had slowed their pace, just as they came up to the doors. "The Viceroy is a delegate from the Fount, in charge of operations until or if Luxa ever gets back."

"So?" Gregor asked as he pushed ahead of the others, eager to enter the council chambers and get the situation sorted out. "What's the problem?" he added, reaching to push open the doors.

"Wait, Gregor!" Ripred urged. "There's something you need to know----"

Gregor pushed open the doors, striding confidently into the middle of the congregation, and being put back in surprise.

Last time he had seen the council it had been composed of almost completely humans, filling the majority of chairs around the rims of the room. Now, however, the room was jammed with a number of fliers, rats, nibblers, crawlers, one or two spinners, and even a shiner in a corner. In the middle of the room, previously holding the attention of all of the council stood a lone human man. He was clothed fully in black, from head to toe, the majority of which was a long robe. He was only a few years older than Gregor in appearance, and was similarly built, only a few inches taller. He turned surprised towards the door as the Overlander barged in.

"What is the meaning of this?" he said loudly. "Who is this who dares to enter unannounced and uninvited in the council chambers of Regalia?"

Gregor was about to reply, but suddenly couldn't find his voice. Luckily, from behind him, Ripred backed him up. "He is Gregor the Overlander, the warrior of old, come to bring our queen back to us. He comes at your own insistence, my liege."

The man's eyes widened, and he took some steps forward, finally stopping and bowing low. "My most humble apologies, Overlander! Allow me to introduce myself. I am Viceroy Arthur of the Fount, Future King and Advisor to Her Majesty!

He spoke with a voice of cockiness, but in this instance Gregor chose to ignore it, instead making to return the bow, albeit uneasily. He thought it strange to ignore the members of the council, who looked neither flustered nor annoyed, but he didn't press the matter. "Your apologies are accepted, Viceroy. I am honored to make your acquaintance."

"The honor is mine!" the Viceroy boomed as he regained his height. "As you can see, we are in session." He gestured around to the council around him. Please, join us. We have much to discuss----"

"Wait," Gregor said, as something finally clicked in his head, and the shortest feeling of dread entered his mind. "What did you say?"

"We are in session," the Viceroy answered, looking mildly confused. "We----"

"No, before that," Gregor urged impatiently. "Future _King_?"

The Viceroy nodded. "Yes, of course. I am Queen Luxa's betrothed."


	8. 7: Right to Remain Silent

**Muchas gracias to ****dyingimmortal****, stephanie, ****deathsinger****, ****alec-alumina****, ****shadowblade546****, ****Castaway5****, ****pomplamouse****, and ****tcat75****, all of whom reviewed most graciously before I even checked my stats page. I hereby demand that they are made the kings and queens of Mars. Abracadabra.**

**Had serious writer's block before writing this. I had planned everything before and after revealing the first twist, but not **_**right**_** after. I think Mareth's outta character; I don't have any of the books to reference, so, apologies for that. Anyway, took longer than usual, sorry. Here's Chapter 7. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I own the Underland Chronicles when pigs fly. Then again, my sister's boyfriend wants to be in the air force...**

**7**

**Right to Remain Silent**

...

...

Gregor couldn't move.

He was afraid to try, 'less he keel over and suffocate on his own conscious agony. He had previously believed it impossible for him to feel any worse. _Apparently, I was wrong_.

Horrifically wrong.

Before, pain had blinded him into oblivion, lost in a swirl of colors that was his heart's turmoil. Now, learning the one item that could have made his day that much worse, he found that he felt nothing at all. In its extent, the news had rendered him numb.

He could only stare blankly, lost of his free will to act.

Over a long period of time, he became aware that he was sitting in a stone chair, alongside the edge of the council chamber, with Mareth at one side and Ripred standing over him, the giant rat obscuring the view of the rest of the council and their discussions. Memories of the previous few moments came flooding back to him as if through a view that wasn't his own. Him numbing up. Ripred trying to shake it out of him. The council's annoyance more than confusion or worry. His friends leading him off to one side.

Embarrassing, these memories were. But all Gregor felt was pain. Just like he had all of the last twenty-four hours. Agony in the form of a sword.

Ripping into a heart he didn't know he still had.

As Gregor swirled back to his bleak form of consciousness he shivered horribly, and Ripred slapped him once across the cheek, causing a jolt that helped him back to himself in his mind. He felt light-headed and nauseous, causing him to wonder whether or not he was truly as strong and solid as he thought he was. _Probably not_.

"You all right, boy?" Ripred asked gently, crouching down to look into the warrior's face. "You didn't exactly make us feel wonderful with that over there."

Gregor stumbled over his own words a few times before he was able to find his voice again, which was disturbingly shaky. "It wasn't exactly by choice. I'm not strong enough to take so many bad surprises in a single day."

Ripred nodded, understanding. Mareth seemed not to be paying attention to his Overland friend, instead directing his attention to the council's current debate, of which Gregor could not identify but could hear was a heated argument. Two of the humans and a flier were both furiously opposing the Viceroy, who had regained center stage, on a topic.

Uninterested, Gregor turned his thoughts to how stupid and weak and useless he was. _You can't do anything_, his mind told himself._ You're useless as long as these emotions control you. And you're too weak in the heart to overcome them._

_Which leaves me with what? Why am I here? _

Neither his brain nor his heart was able to fathom a response to that, and he was left sitting in pathetic silence, wondering how he could be so weak as to collapse horribly like he had after all that had already happened in a day.

Ripred had turned towards the argument. Evidently, by the way he twitched his ears dismissively as one of the spinners voiced their opinion on whatever matter was at hand, he was in on whatever the discussion was. True to Gregor's suspicion, once it was silent again, the great rat stood to his full height and proclaimed, "Sending escorts from each of our species will do nothing to help her Majesty in the escape. Your peoples will just be cut down, quickly, tediously, and in a fashion assured to arouse the cutters' wrath."

"Says you, Ripred!" shouted an elderly man from the human assembly of the council, standing to look down upon the rat. "What you propose is that you and the Overlander go in alone! With our species combined by our best fighters, we will number at least twenty! Are those not better odds?"

"Olton, allow me to ask you something," Ripred retorted, sending a glare as fierce as a volcano at the man. "When was the last time you were on a battlefield? Twenty, thirty, _forty_ years ago?" The council member didn't answer, immobilized into silence, and Ripred continued in the gap. "If it were a matter of pure numbers in a battle I would have already led our collective armies against the cutters and eradicated them. However, you must realize that these are cutters, and that they will not hesitate to jump headlong into a fight and destroy us, combined with the fact that leading a large number of forces into their midst would mostly likely defeat our target goal, which is to remove and rescue Queen Luxa _alive_."

The Viceroy nodded and looked up to the council himself. "He speaks the truth, friends. Sending in forces amassed will do little to accomplish what we must do."

"But still!" piped out a nibbler, squeakily and quietly. "By your own conclusion, how do you expect two soldiers, a rat and an Overland human, to survive such an assault alone! They're two people, by Sandwich!"

The Viceroy nodded, but in an aggressive way, not agreeing. "First of all, my dear Pythagran, the attack designed with these two in mind is not an assault. It is an infiltration, made only with the idea to get in, get the Queen, and then get out. It is not a matter of defeating the cutters, only achieving our objective. Second, I feel that you do not truly understand the skill level of the two we propose to send in."

"Indeed we do not, apparently!" a rat shouted out. "Of course Ripred is a rager, everyone in the entire Underland realizes that, but what nice component does the Overlander bring to the table?"

The Viceroy regarded him as if he had sprouted an asparagus from his left eye. "Do you not know, then? The Overlander too is a rager. A particularly good one, as well, if what our dear esteemed colleague Ripred has depicted is true."

At the announcement of his rager status, Gregor noticed that several of the council members appeared taken aback. He was somewhat surprised, to be completely honest with himself. From the moment Solovet, Vikus' now-deceased wife, learned he was a rager it seemed common knowledge everywhere. Now, however, Gregor noticed that many nibblers, both spinners, a number of crawlers, most rats, and even a few humans seemed astonished by this news. The shiner probably would have, too, if it had possessed any interest in the discussion at hand.

One human in particular, a man looking to be the youngest of the congregation, stood and said, "Viceroy, do you mean to tell us that our warrior is a rager? Excuse me, _was_ a rager all through this time, through the war? Why were we not made aware of this at an earlier time?"

The Viceroy wore a look to mirror the man's own. "I was unaware that you were in the dark on this matter. As I heard, it was frequent knowledge that the Overlander was a rager. As far as I know, he has always possessed the rage ability. Is this true, Overlander?"

The Viceroy turned to face Gregor. Every head in the chamber swung with his to face the Overlander, but Gregor only saw the Viceroy's, a man he was doing his best not to hate but at which he was failing miserably. Trying to summon his voice, Gregor found he could not, and instead nodded, hoping the small and barely existent answer was enough.

"If indeed he was," continued Olton, the human man who had spoken earlier, "then why was the war so difficult for our people? Why did not the Overlander simply go and rage, and there lies the Bane dead, hurrah! Why was it such a struggle?"

"Once again," Ripred growled, shouting in a snarl every word he spoke, "you forget the rules and abilities of war. When this boy fought for us, Olton, he was eleven years old, and just newly discovering his capabilities. A rager, yes, but he was only bloody eleven years old! I discovered that I was a rager when I was eight, but I couldn't even master the ability until far past my twenties. By the time I saw him last, he had already begun to establish a fierce level of control and containment on his rager side, something ragers seldom can, or rarely attempt, to do, and certainly not so in the first year of learning the secret of that side of their personality. Still, his fighting does not rival that of a full warrior or a master rager, but he _did_ kill the Bane. He did save Regalia, and the humans, and the nibblers, and the fliers, and even us gnawers. Don't doubt his abilities. He's done more in five minutes than you did in twenty years, Olton."

A stunned silence fell upon the chamber. Half of it was astonishment, surprise of what Ripred had said. Rarely did the rat establish praise, much less that much, much more less that much at a single time. Gregor found himself staring slack-jawed up at his comrade and mentor, shocked out of his wit. His facial expression was reflected on over half of the faces enclosing the council, including Mareth. And, Gregor noted with interest, the Viceroy.

Long moments passed. Finally, Olton swallowed and said, "I retract my argument." He sat down quickly, attempting to disappear into the background in humiliation.

The Viceroy recovered immediately after, and said, "Are there any further points to be made?" He looked around to the Council to see if anyone wanted to add something to their discussion. "Then, it is decided. Only the two ragers will enter the Cutter Lair to retrieve Queen Luxa, and only in the event that they fail will we send in our armies for her.

"The plan of motion is decided. The plan of attack must still be planned. We will convene once again at the mid-evening hour." He clapped his hands three times and immediately the members of the meeting began to disperse.

Gregor bowed his head, letting it fall exhaustedly into his hands. At any other time in his life he might have argued to keep the council in motion, anxious to get plans into action as soon as possible. In this case, however, he was far too agonized and fatigued to make a dispute over the matter. Moaning, he asked Ripred croakily, "What time is it?"

"By your time or ours?" Ripred replied, watching the departing affiliates of the small alliance. His stance was relaxed, but Gregor could see something unjustified lying in the deep of his eyes. Mistrust, or... suspicion? Hatred? Was it only agony?

"I thought they were the same," Gregor grunted, surveying the rat closely, trying to identify the flicker of emotion lingering in the rat's eye.

But as he turned finally to the Overlander, the strange glimmer disappeared. "They were the same," Ripred answered. "Until about two years ago. Earthquake. All of our chronometers got smashed pretty well. Had to start over, so we didn't bother checking to keep our times synched. It's not like it matters, anyway."

Gregor remembered the earthquake. It had come shortly after Boots' near kidnap, and had only added to another anarchic day in his difficult year. Trying to shake off the memory, he said, "Tell me both, then."

"By ours, it's nearing midday. By yours, I believe you're somewhere around two or three in the morning."

Gregor moaned and dug his hands deeper into his tired eyes. Trying to rub his fatigue away, he only brought up fears and anxiety shocks of what he needed to do in the near future, and how easily it would be for him to fail in the attempt. Moving on to another thought, he said, "I'm tired as hell. I need to get some rest somewhere or we're never going to be able to do anything against anyone."

"Indeed. And that is something we cannot allow to happen!" The Viceroy walked up, finished with dismissing his council. Gregor saw Mareth stiffen and Ripred shift footing uneasily, items he catalogued away for later observation.

"I trust you are fully aware of our situation, Overlander?" The Viceroy continued, speaking in a voice far too calm and boisterous for their 'situation'. Just another thing to add to the list of things Gregor disliked about the man, which was growing faster than it could comprehend.

"I am," Gregor replied, thankfully allowing none of his anger or agony in his voice. "And you have my full cooperation and abilities behind you in the matter."

"Excellent," the Viceroy replied, reaching a single hand up to rub knots from his face. Gregor noticed that he looked almost as tired as he himself felt, although the Viceroy was doing a better job of hiding it from others. "Ripred, will you please arrange accommodations for the Overlander? I must meet with the battle master and try to persuade him to follow my orders in staying."

"Of course, Viceroy," Ripred said, his voice far too even and straight.

The Viceroy didn't notice the change, however. To Gregor, he added, "Thank you for coming here, Overlander. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help. Thank you very much."

Gregor nodded in response. He was already thinking ahead to the next actions, but, as the Viceroy turned away, Gregor suddenly saw something else enter the man's expression. It was like a look of... smugness, confidence, but in a horribly cruel way. For a moment Gregor thought his misgivings of the man had caused him to conjecture up an illusion, but he saw Ripred react to the change as well. Before he could evaluate further the Viceroy had turned and swept himself out of the chamber, and there was nothing more to be said. A look at the rat told him that the vacant council chambers was not a good place to discuss such a thing, and Gregor kept his mouth shut.

"That went well," Mareth said bluntly, sarcasm flooding his tone.

Ripred nodded, beckoning with a wrist flip for Gregor to rise to his feet, which the Overlander reluctantly did. In case his first look hadn't worked, he sent a second at Gregor that strictly said 'here is not the place for discussion'. When Gregor nodded his understanding, the rat sent a minor secondary version of the same at Mareth, who nodded as well, before leading the way to a side door and motioning both of his companions through.

The long hall beyond was wide and expansive, with several adjacent side chambers leading off of it. Light from unknown sources spilled in from every doorway, but still, strangely, the corridor and leadoffs were completely deserted.

Midway down Ripred turned off a side chamber Gregor did not recall, immediately ascending three quick flights of stairs, the Overlander in tow and Mareth hobbling up with incredible speed behind.

After the stairs Ripred turned off down three more corridors before entering a long hall of stone doors, each inscribed with a Roman numeral, from I to XXX along the hall's extent.

At XVII, Ripred halted. Pushing hard on the door, it scraped open uneasily. Looking over the rat's heaving shoulders, Gregor could see a rather large room lit by several holsters of candles along the walls, containing a large four-poster bed, a table, three comfortable-looking sofas, an array of chairs, a tall mirror, and a long balcony overlooking the far side of the palace, spreading out over Regalia.

Gregor let Mareth enter first, and then went in himself, before halting to heave the door closed for his rat friend. Mareth collapsed quickly onto the closest sofa, Ripred lounging about near the balcony, waiting. Gregor considered sitting himself, but quickly determined that he would not be comfortable sitting at all, and so he paced past Ripred and settled himself on the terrace, staring out over the city he had saved more times than he cared to count.

Breaking the silence, Gregor pulled the first disruptive topic out of his mind. "So, how bad was it when I spaced out?"

"The usual," Mareth said boringly from where the sofa.

Ripred added a slight bit more detail. "The regular 'what's going on', 'what did you do', 'get him the hell out'----stuff like that. Might've dropped your status with the humans a bit, keeling just when you hear that Luxa's engaged, but then again the crawlers and fliers might be more on your side, now."

Gregor waited for another question to pop from the other two, but before long he realized that conversation would only begin from him. And so, in a voice so quiet he wasn't even sure he said it aloud, he asked the most important question he valued at the moment. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Are you daft?" exclaimed Mareth, somewhat jokingly yet completely serious. "We _tried_. Right outside the council chambers. You were in such a rush you didn't give us enough time to explain. Remember?"

Unfortunately, Gregor did remember. Every word, or lack thereof, but of course that was entirely his fault, and no one else's. Mareth was absolutely right. They _had_ tried to explain. He had just been in such a hurry to get into the council chambers, into planning something that half-seemed worthwhile, that he had neglected to listen to what they had to say.

But even as he admitted his guilt to himself for that, he turned back to Ripred and asked, "Why didn't you tell me before, when we were still in New York?"

After a silence, Ripred sighed and answered in a saddened voice. "Because I was afraid. I was afraid that if I told you then that you wouldn't come. You would stay in your little world and decide to shirk everything that ever happened to you down here. And that was something that I couldn't allow to happen."

Another pause lengthened. From the inside sofa Mareth had closed his eyes and now gave off the facade of sleep. Ripred and Gregor stood in stony silence, staring out over Regalia with solemn eyes.

Eventually, Gregor found he had the voice to respond. "Do you really think that that would matter to me that much?"

"Yes," his rat mentor answered in a voice like one stating the obvious.

"Allow me to rephrase. Do you really think that telling me that Luxa was engaged to be married would keep me from getting her back? What the hell did I ever do to even give you the _thought_ of something like that?"

Ripred shrugged. "At one time you defied your mother explicitly just to return and search for the cure to a plague we were unsure even had a cure. I thought perhaps you would have a similar reaction were you to discover the truth while still above the surface."

Gregor considered making an argument, but finally admitted to himself that he didn't have the energy for any more conflict. He had forced himself into three hundred and eighty six arguments in the past twenty-four hours, whether with himself, a companion, or an opponent, and he was finally beginning to feel fatigue not only in his body, but his mind.

Instead, he asked another simple question. "So who is this Viceroy? Old family friend?"

"Hell no," Ripred said, joining Gregor on the balcony as the young general began to snore inside the room. "He's a young diplomat, from The Fount. He originally came here three years ago as ambassador to the throne. Of course, he took an immediate liking to Luxa, even though it was clear she wasn't exactly interested in returning the feelings. She was still hurting after you.

"Time passed. Around a year ago we were strengthening our alliances with the other species. But even as we became more comfortable in our new environments Regalia began to lose its connections with its human ally. Luxa saw this, and tried to prevent it, fortifying trade, establishing ceremonies and exchanges. Nothing seemed to work, though."

Ripred paused, in which time he let out a long sigh. He gathered his thoughts, chose his words, and then opened his mouth to continue the tale. "I don't know which of them came up with the idea. _I_ didn't even know about it. Then one day the queen just comes out and announces that she's engaged to marry the ambassador from The Fount."

"Out of nowhere?" Gregor asked dryly.

"Yeah. I was none too happy. I was supposed to know those kinds of things, especially when it concerns my bond. Much less, she should have told me beforehand _herself_." He stopped for a breath before going on.

"The idea worked almost perfectly. As temporary Viceroy, Arthur managed to keep The Fount with Regalia in almost everything, and the relationships with the other creatures didn't shift at all. Eight months in and we still hadn't pulled any bad turns.

"Then the cutters came----"

"Enough said," Gregor interrupted, not eager to travel back down that trail again. Instead, he stated, "You never really answered my question. Who _is_ the Viceroy."

Ripred gazed about the stone rooftops of the city while he gathered his response. "I looked into him personally. As far as I can tell, he's the picture of perfect to an Underlander. Smartest of his people. Fights like a rager, even though I'm all but positive he's not, and he doesn't like to draw his sword. Only person more diplomatic than him that I've ever known is Vikus, and that's vulnerable to change. All in all, Luxa probably couldn't have chosen a better companion." Pause. "Short of you, of course."

Another time, Gregor might have laughed irritatingly, but now he just remained silent. As another stillness enclosed, Gregor read something in Ripred's furry expression that tied in with memories of the council meeting, and asked, "Something tells me that you don't trust this Viceroy very much."

Ripred sighed heavily, his massive chest heaving, and turned his grizzled back on Gregor before answering. "I don't know, Gregor. This man is perfect. Almost too much so. There's just something inside of my mind that's telling me he's got something inside of him that he's not showing us, on purpose. As if he's hiding something from us, intentionally. He's given me no reason to suspect something like that. It's just like... like I'm unconsciously sensing something disruptive, like the rager sense. I just can't make anything of it."

Gregor wondered at the rat's words. He too had sensed something about the Viceroy that set off an uneasy feeling in the pit of his guts. But also, like Ripred, he couldn't localize or identify it.

The Overlander fixed his gaze over the distant buildings on the outskirts of the town, imagining the great father rats returning home to their happy cubs after a good day's work or lounge or whatever it was rats did in a day. He tried to imagine being that happy. He couldn't fathom the feeling and stopped trying.

Encountering a sudden and disturbing thought, Gregor turned abruptly to Ripred. "Have Luxa and him ever... you know..." At a loss for words, he tried to convey his message with strange hand gestures. Despite himself, the rat had to smile as he picked up the train of thought.

"Mated?"

Gregor winced horribly and turned away to hide the blush erupting on his face. "To put it crudely!" he said angrily, mostly because he was surprised he had even considered the action, much less imagined the actual event in his mind. It only made him feel bad, although he was already far past feeling 'bad'.

Ripred laughed, changed it into a cough, and then sneezed as the air caught his nose in a trap. Recovering, he said, "Uh... to my knowledge, the answer to that is no." Gregor's shoulders sagged in relief, making the rat laugh again. Evilly, Ripred didn't stop. "But, then again, bonds don't tell each other _everything_."

Gregor stiffened again, and Ripred looked away to hide his amused smile, before a solemn attitude set in again, and all became silent for the nth time of the evening, or afternoon, or whatever time it really was.

Standing straight, Ripred heaved a breath. "Well, I believe it is time the general and I take our leave. I have to prepare my thoughts for the evening council, and I believe you must get some rest."

Gregor nodded, still staring far off into the distance, considering just what he knew now and what would become of him after all possible outcomes were complete.

Walking inside, Ripred shook Mareth's shoulder, causing him to break from his sleep cursing and fall hard onto the carpeted floor. Climbing anxiously to his foot, Mareth sent death glares at Ripred and opened his mouth wide to complain.

"Let's go, Mareth," Ripred said before the general could even get out a word. "Gregor has an actual need to get some sleep, unlike your lazy lounging. Let's not prevent him from his goal."

Fuming silently, Mareth only nodded once and bid a gentle goodbye to Gregor before limping to and out the door, pushing it open and walking through to wait for Ripred on the outside.

Turning for a last time to Gregor, Ripred said, "Seriously, get some rest. I mean on the verge of twelve hours of sleep. Chances are we're going to need you tomorrow, because all our preparations are going to happen then."

"And then we'll get going?"

"The next day, probably, yes. But not if you can't stay on your feet or even grasp a sword." The rat lumbered over to the door with his giant padded feet, pausing and calling back over his shoulder, sniffing a few times with his nose. "The others are all being polite by not saying this, but you _stink_. When you wake up tomorrow get a bath and some new clothes, then come back here. I'll come and get you when you're needed."

Feeling useless, Gregor asked, "How will I find a bath? And when will you come?"

"Just ask around," Ripred called back as he stepped through the door. "And I don't know, but I'm pretty sure you'll be ready to go by the time I come." On the outside, he pulled the door shut, leaving Gregor alone with his thoughts and concerns for the first time since much, much earlier that day... or morning... or evening, who the hell cares?

For a while, Gregor just stood staring at the closed stone door, feeling nothing and desperately trying to empty his mind of all thoughts. Admitting defeat, he walked over to the table and began to empty his pockets.

84 cents, courtesy of two quarters, a dime, and twenty-four pennies he had picked up that day before meeting Ripred.

A stray apple, which had been lobbed in his direction by an angry beggar, and also which he had caught in stride and pocketed for a later meal.

His gun, which he had taken off of a dead rapist long ago because he thought that it might help his family to survive.

Holding the gun up to the light of the nearest candle, Gregor examined it while remembering the moment he confronted Ripred in the alleyway. It seemed a lifetime ago, in reality only a few long hours in the past. A strong impulse inside his chest told him to chuck the thing off of the balcony, but with a shaking hand he resisted the urge and placed it instead onto the nearest table with his other items.

With tired hands Gregor pulled off his overcoat, depositing it over the nearest chair. He ran his hand over his black sleeveless shirt, feeling his chest where the scars of his encounter with the Bane lay. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his dirty hair, wondering how just ten hours ago he had been living a completely different life as a regular human, not a revered warrior in a place practically no one knew existed.

Collapsing onto the sofa, he tried once more to empty his mind as he fought not against sleep but on the boundaries that prevented him from reaching it, hoping that maybe _everything_ was a bad dream, and he would just wake up in his bed at home as an eleven-year-old boy whose mother needed him to look after his little sister instead of going off to camp...

_...in the dream, there was Luxa._

_She was standing, peaceful, clothed completely in white. She stood with her hands at her side, her pale skin barely identifiable from her garb. A strange smile found itself on her face, a smile that was so loving and beautiful that Gregor couldn't resist smiling back, something he hadn't done in so, so long._

_Luxa reached out a hand, beckoning for him._

_He reached his out as well, grabbing blindly for her fingers, desperate to feel her precious skin against his again----_

_Out of nowhere, a black spear shot out and buried itself in Luxa's chest. Crying out in anguish, Gregor leaped forward to grasp her, only to find that it was no longer Luxa that had a spear in her chest._

_It was Ripred. The giant rat was looking down at the spear as if trying to comprehend that it was really there. Reaching----_

_Now it was Howard. He----_

_Hazard._

_Vikus._

_Mareth._

_The figure was switching so fast Gregor barely had time to establish whom it was before it moved onto the next one. He began to scream, overcome with impatience and agony at the gore before him._

_Dropping to his knees into a floor that didn't exist, he screamed and screamed and screamed, even as, over the din of his cries, a laugh crueler than he had ever heard before, conscious or not, made itself heard over all, cackling loud and clear throughout the horror----_

Gregor awoke with a cry equivalent to those of his dream, falling over the side of the sofa and landing hard on the floor, in a similar way to the method Mareth had utilized earlier that day.

Lying on the floor, still in shock from his dream, Gregor realized that his face was wet. At first he thought it was tears, something he hadn't had in so long a time. Before he had even time to be surprised by this, though, he realized that it was only cold sweat, and that it covered his entire body what was more.

Picking himself to his feet, he stood with rough breaths, making a great effort to calm himself after the traumatic event.

Several moments passed before he had gotten his breath back, and several more before he was able to focus. He bowed his head, realizing that not much time had passed in his sleep and that he was hardly any more rested than he had been before.

Stripping off his sleeveless, Gregor threw it on top of his overcoat and headed with trembling footsteps for the bed that he would have been looking forward to in any other situation.

It didn't matter where he slept. The nightmares would find him anywhere.


	9. 8: Field of Play

**Brilliant thanks to ****dyingimmortal****, ****pomplamouse****, ****alec-alumina****, ****shadowblade546****, ****Seraphania****, stephanie, awsomeperson, ****Castaway5****, and ****deathsinger****. You people have no idea how much reviews mean to me.**

**Chapter 8 for you. See some more characters, new and old. A little action, if this is what you call action. Sorry if it's not written well. Next chapter we'll be moving along. It's time I start getting deep into the plot. But for now, Field of Play! Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: If your name is Billy Bob Joe Bob Joe Bob Larry then I own this story. If not, tough luck.**

**8**

**Field of Play**

When he woke up in the morning Gregor felt worse.

He rolled out of the bed, wondering through his massive headache how something so comfortable could give him such a bad case of morning cramps all up through his legs and into his back. Stretching painfully for his toes, he stumbled a few steps as his vision began to swim before his eyes.

Regaining his footing, he paused while his eyes inserted themselves into perspective. He squinted reflexively, expecting to have to ward off the day's dawning sunlight. After a few bewildered seconds he realized that he was a thousand feet under the ground, and stopped his squint.

Flexing his muscles awake, he leaned forward and down to reach for his shirt as he recalled Ripred's words from the night before. It took a bit of mental prodding, but finally he found the three simple commands he had been ordered to accomplish.

Get a bath.

Come back.

Wait.

Gregor groaned, reluctant to be inactive any longer. By his estimate, he had been asleep for somewhere around ten hours, which was nine and a half more than he had planned or wanted to sleep. Enough time was being wasted. They had to act. And sooner rather than later.

But he didn't have a plan. And so, pulling his sleeveless back over his aching chest, he left his room and went to find a shower.

Within two minutes, he found himself lost. His mind was on other, darker things than finding a bathroom, and unconsciously he found himself walking down corridors he had never even known existed before, not knowing where he was going or why he was going there.

Finally, when he had been meandering for longer than he cared to measure, a passing soldier asked, "Sir? Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

Gregor visibly jumped, startled abruptly out of his reveries and memories. Recovering quickly, he quickly searched his mind for the real reason he had been wandering the halls of a palace, coming up with the answer after a pause. "Uh... yeah. I need a shower, or bath, or whatever. Do you know where I can get one?"

The soldier pointed off in the direction Gregor had just come from. He began to give a series of complex and random directions, and Gregor knew he wouldn't be able to remember any of it in a few seconds. Listening distantly until he gained the general direction, he stammered out, "Thanks," and began to walk back down the way he had come from.

For fifteen more minutes he looked for the showers, finally finding them with the help of three more citizens. Entering quickly, he observed the distant memory of an Underland shower, taking in the fountain-like distribution of water into the tub built into the floor.

Stripping fast, he walked down until he found one spewing warm water, and then jumped right in, basking in the heat and trying to forget everything for a short moment. His family. His mission. Everything except his happiest moments, moments so locked away in his mind he had to attack the barriers with a mental spade before he could access them again. Coincidentally, Gregor found that each and every one of his happiest moments contained Luxa, and so gave up on the attempt quickly.

When he climbed back from his pooling misery he found his old black clothes gone, replaced by an Underland version of the same, complete with tight gray pants and a soft white tunic. For a moment he observed them with distaste, but then told himself delaying himself was the last thing he wanted to do. Pulling on the clothes, he exited the bathroom and asked the nearest Regalian politely for directions back to his room.

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He had only stepped back into his room, finding a light and sturdy looking pair of boots ready for his use, when a harsh rasp came on the stone door behind him. Turning to answer it as he pulled on his new footwear, Gregor found one more friend waiting on the doorstep.

Howard looked older. He was twenty-one now, Gregor realized, but that wasn't what he meant. Whereas the young man should still be enjoying what he had left of his youth the Overlander could see that Howard was shouldering more weight than anyone should have to deal with in a lifetime. He was taller, still a few inches taller than Gregor, but to encompass for his size he looked like he had lost a considerable amount of weight, as Gregor could see the outline of ribs even beneath his outer white coat. His arms and legs still seemed healthily muscular, what his face was very thin. To his horror, Gregor found that he could see a few white hairs amongst Howard's brown head. And to say that the man had bags of fatigue under his eyes was an understatement. These looked liked freaking brick boxes.

Despite all of this, however, Howard still stood firmly in the door, and he wore the strongest of forced smiles upon his face.

Gregor couldn't think of anything to say. For a moment they just stood there regarding each other. Then, breaking a most uncomfortable silence, Gregor swallowed and croaked, "Howard."

"Gregor."

Both tones were bitter and sad, but neither were cruel or angry. Just tired, and horrified.

Another pause came and passed, but at the end the two finally just came together in a hug. It was wordless, mournful, just for the sake of human contact. Gregor doubted anyone could go through as much pain as he already had, he knew that Howard was one of the few that came close. And now, Gregor realized, since he couldn't do anything about getting her back, the best thing he could was face his agony.

But at least he didn't have to do it alone.

After a time they broke apart. Stepping back in invitation, Gregor took a few steps back into his room and Howard followed silently. Pushing the door shut behind them, Gregor asked roughly, "How've you been?"

Howard collapsed onto one of the chairs, leaning back instantly and closing his eyes. "Horribly busy. I thought it was a blessing when I got appointed as chief medical physician at twenty years. Now I see its true form. A bloody curse."

Gregor sat down on the sofa adjacent to his Underland friend. "Casualty list that bad, huh?"

"You haven't any idea. It seems that no matter whether we're at bloody war, or have bloody peace, there's always just one fool who gets himself critically injured no matter the situation. Enough about me, though. You hear one fact, you hear them all, so on to you. How has your life extended itself?"

"Hellishly," Gregor answered through unintentionally clenched teeth. "I'm not going into detail. It just didn't go my way. At all. I don't want to talk about it." He sighed reminiscently, but not in a good way. He had just recalled that Howard had not wanted Luxa and Gregor together, the only one, as far as he could tell, who had been completely against it. It didn't change his mindset over anything, of course. It was just another dismal fact to add to a collection of blame that he could put on no one but himself.

As if a lightning bolt up from Hell below, Howard came out of the blue and invaded directly onto the thought that Gregor wanted to leave eternally behind. "I never entirely disapproved, you know." His eyes never opened, he just spoke his words.

Heart stopping midbeat, Gregor wondered if he absolutely _had_ to reply. Finally, realizing he did, and also realizing exactly what Howard was getting to but denying it, he choked out in what he hoped was a steady voice, "What do you mean?"

"You and her," came the reply, its speaker still refraining from opening his eyes. "It wasn't that I wouldn't have been happy to see you together. It was just that she was to be queen, and you were just an Overlander more or less passing through----"

A rasp came at the door.

Gregor leaped to his feet, praying thanks for the interrupting sanction, and rushing over to the door, eager to end that certain conversation as quickly as possible. Behind him, Howard stayed silent, neither pressing his speech nor turning to something else. For his silence, Gregor sent a silent speckle of gratitude in his psychic direction.

Lugging the door open, Gregor found Ripred standing on the threshold, gnawing heartily on a bone in impatience. When his fellow rager appeared around the door, the rat growled, "Right. Let's go. Training to do, boy."

"Thanks for getting to the point," Gregor said sarcastically as his mentor stared past him and into the room towards Howard.

"Glad to see you away from your patients, your supreme Medicalness," Ripred called into the young doctor, who responded with a harsh groan and a sideways wave of the hand.

"Same to you," Ripred responded vocally. "Pushy, these days, he is," the rat added to Gregor in an undertone. "His work is getting to him. Oh, well. We should be on our way. Things to do, items to prepare."

"What about Howard?" Gregor asked as Ripred began to make off down the corridor.

Over his furry shoulder, Ripred growled, "Oh, just leave him there. He needs his rest, and if they catch him anywhere else they'll put him right back to work. Look, he's already fallen asleep. I can smell it."

Sure enough, ducking his head back into the room, Gregor found Howard gently snoring his way into a dream. Shaking his head at the absurdity, the Overlander walked back into the room to retrieve his tools. He intended to pick up his gun, but just as he was reaching for it he suddenly decided against it. For a moment he didn't understand why, but then realized that he felt a source of uneasiness when he handled a gun, as if it wasn't the type of weapon that was made for him.

Shuddering at the strange thought, he retracted his hand and left the dangerous device in its place. Grabbing his overcoat his walked back out into the hall where Ripred waited patiently, closing the door softly behind him.

Ripred led him back down three flights of stairs before leveling out their path and leading them through a short labyrinth of corridors to a landing platform, empty like so many other areas of Regalia that Gregor had noticed of late.

Ripred made no pretense of annoyance at the empty floor, and so Gregor assumed that they were expecting a flier ride at any moment. Standing erect and gazing out over the fields of houses below, he asked, "What are we to do today?"

"Train," Ripred said, through his individual gnaws. "I need to assess your dormant abilities, so I can figure out how much weight you can handle yourself, and how much I'll have to cover your back tomorrow."

Ignoring the insulting jest, Gregor scanned the skies for their flight and asked, "Are we leaving tomorrow, then?" He wasn't surprised, or worried. In his mind, the sooner they went the better, as he had already made clear to himself many times over.

"If today goes well, yes."

"And what did the council decide for our plan?"

"That's confidential, as of yet." Ripred spat out a spot of grit and kept gnawing his teeth away. "Too open here. We can't trust anyone. I intend to fill you in on the outgoing flight, if that's all the same to you. Much safer that way."

Gregor nodded, no longer paying much attention. He was already moving on to the battlefield, where his skills were about to be tested. He began to wonder what kind of exercises and test Ripred would be putting him through, and worrying how many people would be in attendance to observe his 'exam'...

His thoughts were disturbed by great gusts of air as giant wings beat at the air, coming in sharply for a landing. Gregor held up an arm to shield himself, and when he lowered it to identify the two bats who had landed he groaned inwardly as he registered the first and then worsened it as he recognized the second.

"I greet you once again, Overlander!" boomed Equinox overzealously as he folded his wings inward to his body. "It pleases me that once more I can be of service to you."

Fighting to find a mix of words that didn't sound entirely happy while Ripred contained his ironic laughter, Gregor strained out, "I appreciate your service, great bat, and it gratifies me that you offer it so freely."

"Oh, believe me, it is I who is gratified to be able to offer it!"

Quickly, Ripred moved in to distract Equinox, striking up a random argument over flight capabilities in narrow tunnels. In doing so, he allowed Gregor escape, which he appreciated, but also forced him to acknowledge the second bat, which made the Overlander resent the interruption.

Swallowing, he walked over to the familiar golden bat and laid a soft hand against her fur, surprised but pleased when she didn't shrink away from his touch. Taking an uneasy breath, he said, "Hi, Aurora. It's been too long." The greeting sounded lame, but at least he avoided asking the question of 'how are you'. That would not have been pretty.

"Indeed, Overlander," Luxa's flier bond replied in a voice so stolidly rigid that Gregor wondered whether or not any emotion at all lurked behind the words. "It has been far, far too long."

On the last word, Gregor imagined that he heard an intense feeling emanating from the golden bat: _blame_. And it seemed to be channeled in a sharp direction, a direction that went straight into _him_.

_She's blaming me_, he realized after a short second of thought. _She's putting this whole thing on me. Why? I didn't do anything to cause this. I was in the Overland all this time that Hell was breaking free._

But even as he thought these things, more aggressive ideas came to mind. _You too are putting a fare amount of fault upon yourself. Why is that? It's because you have no one fair to blame, and so you choose to put the guilt upon someone you know will feel the shame of the situation: you._

Keeping his straight face, Gregor nodded again to Aurora before turning back to the others. It was evidently clear that neither of them were in the mood for extended conversation.

Ripred finished his distraction, ending on some note about broken wings amounting to little in the end. Turing to face Gregor and Aurora, he called, "Right, then. Equinox'll fly me to the arena. Boy, follow us on Aurora, with her permission, of course. Don't dawdle. We have much to do."

Without another word, he hopped quickly onto Equinox's, and the giant black bat spread his wings wide and leaped into the air, throwing great gusts of wind behind him as he steered himself out into the dark and towards the arena of training. And Gregor watched from behind, wanting nothing but to ignore Aurora behind him and walk there on foot.

Slowly, he turned to face the golden bat, who was already striding up beside him and lowering herself so that he could mount. Gregor couldn't help but think as he reluctantly climbed on that he was most likely the first person to ride her since Luxa. It only made his uneasiness grow.

The flight was silent. Aurora was not in a mood to talk, and Gregor was keeping his instincts on alert, honestly worried that his flier would buck him off at any moment. Not a word was spoken between them as the journey went, and neither of them did anything to disturb the rickety peace.

As they swerved through the last buildings on the outskirts of the city, the arena came into view.

Where great games and activities were usually found in progress, soldiers now stood in ranks and individually, running through drills and exercises with disciplined haste, going as fast as was possible while completing their goal with utmost accuracy. In one corner archers loosed arrow after arrow into targets one hundred yards downfield. In another, stormtroopers charged relentlessly into targets and facades, hacking nonchalantly as they raced through the midst. Far above the ground drills, bats twirled and twisted in fantastic flying performances, dodging and confronting each other in a fearsome dance of competition and training. The entire swirl of activity formed a storm of anger, determined to fight and determined to win. And watching it all, Gregor felt a deep pang of sadness somewhere near the place his heart had once laid.

At the eye of the storm, the very center of the field, stood Vikus, Mareth, Ripred, and an Underlander man Gregor had not seen before. Equinox had evidently joined the bats above already, anxious to leap into action.

Aurora reared in for a landing abruptly, forcing Gregor to leap gracefully but uneasily from her back, wondering whether or not the action had been intentional. He hit the ground rather hard, sending a jolt of shock through his knees and into his legs. He ignored the feeling and resisted the impulse to shoot the bat a dirty glare, standing to his height to address the party as she immediately took off again to join her fellows above.

At closer inspection, Gregor now saw something somewhat familiar in the man standing with his companions. He was brutishly tall, wearing one of the fiercest handlebar mustaches Gregor had ever seen and clothed in dark brown leather. His arms were bare, revealing rippling muscle coursing through his arm at any slight movement. The top of his head was bald, but Gregor suspected that it was shaved. At his side swung a giant broadsword, and on his belt he carried an array of throwing knives and devices. The appearance tugged at his memory, but Gregor couldn't quite place the man.

In the vice versa, though, this was not the case.

"Overlander!" the man boomed, clearing the distance between them in a single humongous stride and seizing Gregor's arm. His voice ricocheted off of everything it could reach, causing an uncomfortable ring and boom inside Gregor's ears. "It has been too long! I wish it could be under better circumstances that we meet again."

Despite himself, Gregor couldn't allow a glimpse of confusion enter his face. He feared it would offend the man, but, to surprise him in turn, the man simply nodded. "Ah, yes, no surprise you would not remember me. You had greater things on you mind when we were first acquainted."

"Gregor," Vikus said, moving forward into the conversation with short footsteps, offering a weak smile as he did so. "This is York, governor of The Fount. He has come to assist in the training of our soldiers."

"And hopefully to assist in retrieving my niece," York added. Gregor took a long look at the huge man and finally remembered. York had been in the battle with the gnawers when Gregor had escaped from the clutches of Solovet to join in the fighting out of fear for Luxa's life. The Overlander recalled the large man bellowing loudly as he swung fearsome weapons in all directions. He had liked the man, despite never having been truly introduced and being limited to that short experience.

"I'm afraid, my sir, that you will be able to do little in the latter matter," Ripred interrupted, joining the discussion from his observations. "Only the boy and I will be entering the Lair, and we all know that all chances say only one or none of us come back."

"Indeed, master rat," York exclaimed, "I know this is true. But I will hope to offer safe haven and defense for you upon your return with our queen. Rest assured, I will not fail here!"

"I'll hold you to that, friend," Ripred replied, scratching a shoulder with a clawed paw. "I can only hope that you defend this city against cutters with the same ferocity as you defend your own from lobsters…"

A silent grin appeared on both of their faces, passing an inside joke between them. Vikus smiled knowingly, but Gregor was left in the dark, and Mareth continued to watch his soldiers in their drills, occasionally shouting out corrections and criticisms as he saw mistakes in form.

Ripred finished his silent laughs and turned to face Gregor. "Alright, boy. Time to get to work. Do you have a sword on you?"

"What? No!" Gregor replied. "I don't have a sword anymore."

"Don't think I don't forget," Ripred growled, turning over to the general. "Oi! Mareth! Boy needs a sword!"

"W-what?" Mareth said distractedly, still focused upon his soldiers. "What sword? Whose boy? Brack! Watch your left flank!" He swore under his breath as his soldier Brack was knocked to the ground by an obstacle, still not paying attention to the other conversation.

"For pity's sake, general," Ripred said, rolling his giant rat eyes. "Your soldiers aren't going to keel over and die if you look away for a few seconds. Gregor needs a new sword. Go take him and find one. York will handle your troops."

Reluctantly, and after much more coercion, Gregor and Ripred managed to pry Mareth away from his troops. Still watching the fake battles and practice sessions around, Mareth led Gregor dodging through the mess towards a small quartermaster area to the far left of the arena. Gregor was already considering more ways he could ruin his situation, as he suddenly realized that the choice he was about to make on a sword could mean the difference of life and death for Luxa and he and Ripred just come tomorrow.

_Stop worrying_, he urged himself. _It'll only make things worse_.

Mareth entered the mess of shelves and swords, and Gregor followed close behind. In any way he looked he could see an array of weapons he had never even known existed in the Underland: maces, shields, double-bladed scepters, battleaxes, hammers, crossbows, daggers, _lances_…

Anywhere he looked a gruesome tapestry of death weaved itself into his mind, forcing him to concentrate as hard as he could on the ground in front of him, anger and nausea pouring as one into his soul. Images of destruction and decay from long ago recollections jumped back to him, and it took a good amount of control for him to suppress them.

Abruptly, Mareth pulled up and Gregor skidded to a halt. Beside them, a long rack of swords spread left and right, invitingly laid hilt-up. Any number of different varieties laid in the line, from broadsword to rapier to cavalier to curtana----his choices were practically endless. But even as he marveled at the number of selections he possessed, Gregor's subconscious rager sense started to pick up on the number of imperfections each blade contained, and noticed how each one differed irreparably from the close union he had felt from his old sword, the on he had broken on the floor of the council chamber, the one that had once belonged to Bartholomew of Sandwich…

But he couldn't dwell on that. Mareth stood back, not saying a word, letting Gregor have the floor and decision of choice. It was clear that he had any pick he wanted, no matter which one it was. The problem that he saw, however, was that none of them even came close to rivaling the feel of his old one.

Slowly, he paced up and down the line, once, twice, three times, surveying each sword individually and scrutinizing it for imperfections that would cost him later. On each and every blade, he discovered too many, and moved on the next, where he found an equal or great amount. As he reached his sixth lap of the rack, he began to wonder if he wouldn't be able to find a suitable sword…

And then he stopped.

Turning ever slowly back, he reached over and slowly removed a single weapon from its rack. It came easily from its hold, and its weight was perceptively light. The hilt was made of a dull metal and was colored crudely, but that meant nothing to Gregor. All he cared about was the blade.

And the blade was something to behold. Scratches from what looked to be decades of use covered it, but beneath these scars it still shone like new, reflecting every torch light and fire it could. In shape itself, the sword differed from its fellows around: instead of a straight blade ending in a sharp point, this one vegan to curve ever so gradually about one-third of the way up its edge, both ends meeting at a point at the end along the sharp arc. Testing it lightly in a swing, Gregor awed silently at the way it sliced cleanly and freely through the air, with little resistance at all. Bringing it to a halt at waist-level, he surveyed the weapon one last time for inconsistencies, just as found the name he had been looking for.

_A scimitar_.

A weapon of the desert. Strange, to find one here, thousands of feet under the ground upon which sat New York City. But that didn't matter. He had this strange sword, and he was going to utilize it.

Breaking from his reverie of the sword, he found Mareth standing beside him, holding out a sheath patiently. Taking the proffered item, Gregor slid the scimitar quickly into the sheath, finding it to fit perfectly. Silently, he belted both holder and weapon to his side, and then followed Mareth back out of the weapons area.

They found York keeping Ripred's word, bellowing out commands fiercer than Mareth had been, as Vikus and Ripred watched from below, speaking in quiet voices. On their approach, Ripred stood his full height and Vikus stepped back. York stepped away and Mareth once again resumed his yelling position.

Lounging over to Gregor, Ripred surveyed the sheath once and then sighed. "Well, let's see it, then."

Grudgingly, Gregor pulled the scimitar out, and held it by hilt and blade gently for Ripred to scrutinize. The giant rat didn't rush through his inspection. Every second moving passed, Gregor began to fear that his choice would be rejected, or that his mentor would simply break out laughing at his absurdity.

In the end, though, Ripred just moved back down to four paws and grunted, making a single comment as he turned away. "I expected worse."

Gregor jogged a few steps to catch up as the rat began to move away, sheathing the sword skillfully mid-step. "Where are we going to, now?"

"Trials."

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Twelve long hours later, Ripred had thrown Gregor threw every drill in the arena, from the agility practices to missile deflection into even a small bout of archery. Halfway through all of the practice and preparation Gregor had declared himself exhausted. Now he felt utterly lifeless.

But he didn't care. Because until, _unless_ he got Luxa back, that was completely what he was. Without a life. Empty.

All but one squadron of soldiers had been dismissed, and all three of their other companions had left for the night as well. Gregor and Ripred were utterly alone on their side of the arena, and for now, Gregor believed that Ripred was going to work him to death. He wouldn't have been surprised.

Finally, though, Ripred scrutinized Gregor's heaving body and hummed for a moment in thought. Then he looked back out towards the palace in the distance and said, "I think you're as good as ready."

When nothing else was added, Gregor asked, "Does that mean we're finished?"

"Not quite." The rat began to move farther off towards the edge of the ring, and Gregor tiredly followed. "I have no question in your abilities any longer. I only want to see two more things, and how you react to them."

Belatedly, Gregor realized that the rat was leading him towards a set of three cannons, each arrayed in a circle and facing the common center of their own little arrangement. A few seconds later, it clicked into the Overlander's mind what the cannons were used for. "Blood balls?" he sighed incredulously as Ripred came to a halt beside the array. "You want me to swat bloodballs."

"Yes," Ripred replied simply, his face and tone expressionless.

Gregor stared confusedly and exasperatedly back. "Why? What the hell will this tell you about me?"

"I don't know," answered Ripred unhelpfully, but even beneath the deceptive reply Gregor caught a low tone that exulted nothing but truthfulness. "I don't know what I'll find out. But I want to know."

For a few moments, a silence stretched itself between them. Gregor took in heaving breaths, still trying to catch air from his last drill. Scrutinizing Ripred with a raised and skeptical eyebrow, he asked, "So you just want me to do it? Once?"

"Yes."

"And that's it?"

"Almost." Ripred crawled over to one of the cannons, and from the top of the barrel he took off a long piece of cloth. Lounging over to Gregor, he handed it to the Overlander. "Put this over yours eyes."

Gregor looked at the cloth, realizing what the rat wanted. "I'm going to do it blindfolded? Hit them by echo?"

Ripred nodded, his only answer short.

For a moment, Gregor hesitated. He could, of course, hit the balls by echo. It wouldn't be easy, but he didn't suspect any serious problem with it. It was just that the action seemed so simple that he suspected something deeper than what his rat friend was telling him. Silently, he considered every glitch, every fault in his task, looking for some catch that Ripred was testing him to identify. Soon, though, he discovered that he could find nothing deceptive or secretive in the action, and decided to trust the action simply for what it was: a test.

He raised the blindfold he his eyes, wrapping it tight with his callused fingers. Making sure that he could see nothing by waving his unseen hand in front of his eyes, he quickened and bulked up his breath, making a greater sound to rebound back to him and alert him of close presence. Once he was sure Ripred was not anywhere near him, he fluidly drew his scimitar and walked silently into the center of the cannons.

The last time he had done the Blood Ball exercise, it had actually been his first time, before he had discovered his rager abilities. Come to think of it, Gregor remembered that hitting the complete total of fifteen on the test had been the first indication of his genetic skill. But now, standing in the center of the circle between cannons, he remembered firsthand how it had felt, being blank and ferocious as he swatted each ball from the air, and the disgusted feelings he had felt as he saw the destruction below him afterwards.

"Are you ready?" Ripred asked, coming from the far left of Gregor.

Slowly, Gregor nodded, intensifying his breath.

And the cannons began to fire. As Gregor identified the location and quickly swiped through the first one two more had already been fired, and he realized that it would be much harder than he had first imagined. Unconsciously, he let the flow of his rager side begin to enter his movements, directing his strikes as the balls fired faster.

And then, before he knew it, he was done. Tilting his head down, he echoed sound, and found all fifteen balls in shells at his feet. It was a good performance, he knew. Except for the fact that he had absolutely no memory of striking the last ten down, meaning that his rager ability had completely taken over. But he didn't care anyway. He could feel the red liquid from within them splattered across his chest and face, and felt it slowly drip down his arms and hands. He recalled abruptly how he had run from the very same feelings on his first exercise, trying to escape the madness and destruction.

This time, Gregor felt the "blood", marveled at its sliminess, and stayed rooted to the spot, captivated by his disgust. Instead of running and gagging, he imagined the fierce smell of iron that should have been there, taking it in with great breaths of cruel imagination, facing it with every bit of contempt he held inside his shattered soul.

He slowed his breathing, calmed himself. With a shaking hand he raised his hand and pulled the blindfold from around his eyes, allowing him to see his handiwork by his own sight instead of sound.

He turned away from the gruesome sight, towards Ripred. He didn't expect praise for his performance, but what he saw in the rat's eyes surprised him farther. Fear, pity, worry, but none for the rat himself. All for him. Gregor.

Because, as a fellow rager, Ripred had realized that Gregor had lost control.

"You did well," the rat said aloud, speaking none of his inner turmoil, betraying none of it in his voice. Both knew what the other did, and both knew that it was a topic which could be discussed with no one but themselves.

Gregor shrugged, stepping out from the mess and joining Ripred next to the third cannon. With the blindfold, he wiped the fake blood from his scimitar and threw the rag onto the barrel of the giant gun. Instead of acknowledging the previous statement, he instead asked, "You said you had _two_ more things for me to do. What is the second?"

"A spar," Ripred replied, turning to walk into open ground and accepting the change of conversation silently.

"Spar? With whom?"

"Me." The rat turned abruptly on his heel and leaped at Gregor. With not enough time for a parry, Gregor jumped to flatten himself on the ground, allowing the rat to soar wide right over him, before leaping once more into the air and taking a quick number of steps away to gain his bearings.

"That was quick," he shouted over his shoulder as he rounded to face his opponent. "But am I really facing you? Why not another soldier, with another sword."

"Cutters don't wield swords, boy," Ripred stated, feinting to Gregor's left and then striking quickly to his right hip, which the Overlander deflected easily. "And besides, I don't trust any of them to last long enough to give you a good workout."

The rat swung both paws at Gregor's knees, forcing him to use a double-handed block with his scimitar and then scurry away to reform. The action gave Ripred a chance to attack Gregor's back, and just by a last moment shrug did claws miss their target.

Leaping around to go on the offensive Gregor sent two quick strikes at Ripred's furry hide, one of which was deflected and the other simply dodged. Losing his body to the inertia of his attack, Gregor stumbled off-balance and was forced to jump uneasily over a quick claw as he regained his footing.

The fighting progressed, but as each rager took more hacks at the other Gregor started to feel his control sliding away, giving way to inhuman instincts and tendencies. He fought to regain mental composure, but every time he did so his focus on the fight was lost, and he was forced to block a quick strike and back off for thinking room.

Whether it was for control or victory Gregor fought, however, it soon became apparent that he was losing the battle. He stumbled to avert blows, and even as he stopped them a few more were already on their way. Ripred was swinging quicker and more accurately, forcing Gregor to do all he could just to keep himself from losing his head.

At a focal point, however, Gregor saw a claw swing around that he would not be able to stop, and at that moment his rager side broke through his concentration, flooding his thoughts and movements and taking over complete control of his mind. He was no longer fighting the battle, only a shallow watcher, a passenger on his own flight.

Distantly, he was aware of his arms swinging around to block the blow, forcing Ripred back in astonishment. Taking advantage of the distraction, he swung his sword quickly in easy motions, striking in places the rat barely had time to block. Gradually he realized that his raging was giving him an advantage, very slightly, which was beginning to grow larger and larger.

"Enough…"  
Blow after blow rained down upon them both, sword and claws bouncing off each other and ricocheting around for another strike as fast as was possible. Strikes came at the same time, parried and repeated, each fighting for a desperate advantage that neither of them could have. Gregor, not controlling the slightest bit of the fight any longer, saw that his advantage was growing larger and larger, more and more dangerous, and that at any moment he might he able to----

"ENOUGH!!!"

Swung back to his senses, Gregor felt his scimitar ripped away from his hands, flying halfway after it, and landing in a heap upon the rough ground. Coming fully back to himself, he swirled back to a world of aches and pains that he had been oblivious to before. Lightly, he rolled onto his back to see what was happening.

Two feet away, his sword had buried itself into the ground to halfway up the blade. Standing over him, Ripred's eyes were bright and fierce, and his breath was coming in quick gasps. For a moment, Gregor feared a further action, but he then realized that Ripred was in the process of calming down, and so he didn't move to provoke anything else.

When some of the brightness had escaped them both, Gregor took a deep breath and let it out in a calming sigh. "Ripred, I'm… I'm sorry."

Ripred didn't reply for a moment, just stared down at him a few seconds longer. Then he took a step away and turned around. Softly, over his shoulder, he uttered, "It wasn't your fault." Nothing else was said, no more words for consideration.

They remained that way for a while, rat standing erect and human lying broken on the ground. After he had gained his breath, Gregor climbed to his feet. Walking over, he wrenched his sword out of the ground. Examining it, Gregor saw several new scratches covering the blade. Grimly running a finger along its extent, he slid the scimitar back into its sheath and turned to face his companion.

After a pause, Ripred said, "You are ready. We will return to the palace now."

"Must we plan anything more?" Gregor responded softly, keeping his gaze locked upon the ground at the rat's feet.

"No. Everything is planned. Everything is ready for tomorrow."

" 'anything I need to do?" Gregor asked.

Ripred shook his head in reply. "Just get rest, and be ready for tomorrow."

They stood in another silence for a long few moments. Then Ripred turned to him and said, "It wasn't your fault. Don't make it another barrier that we need to cross. We need you tomorrow. I need you. _She_ needs you. We can't afford to have you distracted.

"Besides, against a legion of cutters we might need that very action out of you."

Saving Gregor from any reply, Equinox chose that very moment to drop out of the sky. "Shall I take you back, my lord?" he boomed in a voice much too optimistic for Gregor's low spirits.

"Yes." Ripred gave a simple reply, immediately climbing onto the bat and waiting for Gregor to follow. Slowly, the Overlander mounted as well, finally beginning to feel his fatigue wash into him as it hadn't before. He was barely conscious as the bat took off, and by the time they were back over the city on the way back to the palace he was already falling into a deep and troubled slumber.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Another nightmare disturbed his dreams, and he awoke in the middle of the night feeling worse than before.

Surprisingly, the short amount of sleep had refreshed him beyond his fatigue of the day, even if it had caused his mind more turmoil than before. The aches in his back still remained, but his arms were no longer lead and h found that his mind was clear, if unhealthily depressed.

He turned his head to see Ripred, fast asleep on the couch and snoring annoyingly. The rat had insisted on staying there tonight to "make sure you get damn sleep, 'cause if you fall off your flier midway there tomorrow there'll be hell to pay". In a shorter term of words, Ripred was there to make sure Gregor didn't do what he was doing right now. Fitting.

Gregor climbed silently out of the bed, careful to avoid rustling any of the sheets or items upon the floor. He reached over and pulled on his overcoat for warmth in the cold Underland air, and went over to sit at the small desk he hadn't noticed at first glance in the room.

Resting his elbows against the hard surface, he threw his head into his hands, trying to rub away all doubt and fear and anger he was building up inside of himself at his task. It seemed utterly impossible to him, reality-wise, to assume coherently that he and Ripred would be able to rescue Luxa and return safely. The chances of that were despairingly small, he realized, which sent him into another chain of worrying thoughts and questions.

What if it's _me_ that doesn't return?

What if she does but I don't?

What if I do but she doesn't?

There were so many things he had never said to so many people. So many things he had to say, had to let them know. And now, all of a sudden, he might never get the chance.

Grimly, Gregor turned to look over at Ripred, sleeping fitfully as if there were no problem at all in the world. He wondered what went on in the mind of the rat, to keep him so calm and tranquil in times as hectic and horrifying as these. He wondered how the rat had ever gotten over the death of his family, with so many things unsaid.

Gregor turned back to the desk, noticing parchment and a quill resting in the corner for the first time. He stared hard at them, wondering if they would suffice for what he had to say, had to give. Whether they could or not, it didn't matter. They _had_ to suffice.

With a dark foreboding sense about him, Gregor reached for the parchment and started writing.


	10. 9: Such Sweet Sorrow

**Geez, I love you guys. I write crappy and I still get all these reviews. Thanks this time to ****november21****, ****Alot like Gregor****, ****pomplamouse****, ****alec-alumina****, ****shadowblade546****, ****Castaway5****, ****Seraphania****, ****xxxxBlackTearsForeverxxxx****, and ****Luny Lovegud****.**

**It's official. We're moving on. I'm happy, I can finally write about something other that Gregor's emotions and struggles. Almost. Forgive me if I'm giddy, but I'm super thrilled because so far none of you have guessed a big twist coming up, and I even kinda sorta hinted at it a bit (a TEENSY bit). Apologies, but I'm just glad it'll be a surprise. Anyway, here is Chapter 9 for you. Short, but the next will either be long or informative. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I OWN THIS! Ha, made you look.**

**9**

**Such Sweet Sorrow**

By the time Ripred woke up in the morning, or what Gregor could guess was the morning, he had already finished his writing, reading and rereading his work and making sure to erase all traces of uncertainty from it. It was meant to be read through clearly the first time, and although he hoped no one would ever have to look at the words he had smote upon the page, he wanted to make sure they were perfect in any case.

He had hidden it deep inside his overcoat when Ripred came around. By the time the rat had rolled himself into an alert form of consciousness Gregor had donned the black outfit prepared for him by an unseen maid and pulled his overcoat over it. His gun remained on the table beside his bed. After a long argument with himself while Ripred snored away he had decided to leave it where it was, for reasoning he didn't understand coming from a mental voice he hoped didn't exist.

Shaking the last traces of sleepiness from his muscles and mind, Ripred yawned wide and turned it into a waking growl midway through. Stretching out for a moment, he looked over to where Gregor sat patiently and moaned, "Did you sleep at all?"

"A little."

"Great," Ripred complained in reply, rubbing a knot out of his shoulder's fur. "Today I get to defend myself from cutters _and_ your blundering slumbering sword. I feel so special."

"You should," Gregor retorted, feeling wide-awake. Cracking his knuckles reflexively, he added in question, "So when do we go?"

"'Sooner the better."

"Agreed, but does the council as well?"

"Evidently, seeing as they have no idea just how dangerous it is in the field anymore." Ripred sighed, falling to four paws and padding his way around the sofa to where Gregor sat at the desk. "Too many years in that chamber contorts your mind into seeing everything in the view of politics. Before long, you start to believe that battles are fought by writing down insults on fine parchment and waving them at your opponents on the ends of sticks."

"For some reason," Gregor replied, "I really can't see the cutters ever adopting that particular method of warfare."

"You and me both, boy," Ripred replied. The sarcasm was evident, but even deep down there was something that Gregor just might interpret for sincerity, if he would have wanted to. Scratching his back, the rat added, "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Good," the rat said, looking over the room as if to search for something, or to memorize it. Gregor was unsure of the significance. "When was the last time you ate something?"

Gregor thought for a moment and raised both of his eyebrows when his mind fell upon the answer. "Um... lunch the day you got me in New York."

"You're lying." Gregor shook his head, and Ripred took on a look of skeptical astonishment, knowing that the Overlander wasn't misleading him but confused as to how the act was possible. "Do you mean that you went through all of yesterday's training without eating a damn thing? The whole day? Nothing?"

"Yep."

Ripred flinched, visibly and exaggeratedly. Aloud, he stated, "Don't know how the hell you did that. Didn't you used to eat up the supply in storage whenever we went on those quests?"

"Not to my knowledge. That was always you and Boots."

Ripred ignored the comment and continued. "Still don't know how you got through everything yesterday. If anyone else would have been down there with me, I swear, they would have collapsed halfway through the obstacle exercise."

Gregor gripped the edge of the table as he pulled himself to his feet. "I just ignored it. There were bigger things to think about besides food. I don't even feel really hungry right now." His stomach chose that precise moment to let out a growl of emptiness. Looking down at it, Gregor added, "But I don't expect that to last."

"We must both eat before departing," Ripred said, whacking a fallen asleep paw against the wall and pacing over to the door. "Hell, though, going a whole day in that arena without any food... that's not something everybody could do."

"But it's something _you_ could do," Gregor retorted, joining Ripred by the door as the rat pulled it open.

"Of course. Oh, look, I feel special again."

In the corridors outside the torches had been extinguished, telling Gregor that it was still early morning. Observing this and turning to Ripred he asked, "What time is it?"

"Somewhere around the middle of the morning," Ripred replied, not bothering to look up at Gregor. "We decided in the council session of planning that it would be best if we left very early, before the city has a chance to wake and come to see us off. They felt that a quiet exit was the best, and both the Viceroy and I agreed."

The mention of the Viceroy sent a jolt through Gregor's body, reminding him why even as he did everything he could to get Luxa back he still felt utterly horrible. The image of the man's face in his head sent Gregor into an unconscious cycle of disturbing violence, each individual picture describing a different way of slicing the Viceroy's head into a dozen pieces with eight toothpicks.

As those thoughts entered and left his mind Gregor reproached himself. It did no good and truly held no justice for him to hate the Viceroy. As far as he could read, the man was working just as hard as Gregor in his attempts to retrieve his betrothed, if not, as reluctantly as Gregor was to admit it, harder. As an add-on to reasons his hate was misplaced, Gregor realized that if Luxa _had_ to choose someone for her husband that wasn't him, it seemed, from first impressions, that the Viceroy was the perfect choice.

He mentally kicked himself for his succumbing to guilt, and instantly diverted his full attention to memorizing the route from his room (which he might never see again) to wherever they were going, supposedly a kitchen or dining room.

Or, as it turned out, both.

Ripred led him into a small room, walls lined with shelves and shelves of every kind of delicacy and sustenance Gregor had ever known the Underland humans to possess, and even many he didn't. Boxes, crates, stacks of everything from basic chicken to a strange-looking vegetable he couldn't identify lined the place, and all of it looked to be in enough quantity to feed them for what would be a long time. In the center of the room there stood a long table, with four chairs displaced at odd intervals. The room was lit only by a small ring of candles suspended above the table from the ceiling.

"We're not taking any food with us," Ripred said, lounging over to the nearest shelf and pulling something relatively meaty from a stack, "so eat almost as much as is possible."

Gregor nodded, scanning the room for something he would actually endure eating. He settled on a relatively sane-colored meat item and a strange blue fruit, neither of which he had ever seen before, and crashed down into one of the chairs. Ripred sat down next to him and both dug into their meals silently.

For a while, it stayed that way, quiet as they devoured their respective meals.

When he was as good as finished with his and Gregor had pulled a third slab of the meat from the nearest shelf, Ripred asked, "You're more silent than I thought you would be. These days, I mean. From what I've taken from your life I would guess that you would want nothing more than to leap out after her the moment you could, but so far it's just been calm and serene, after that incident up there in the alley. Still, you just sit there now, waiting, observant. How did the loud and decisive boy warrior become this masked patient man?"

Gregor took three more bites and swallowed them as he thought of a reply, staring hard into the opposite wall, losing himself in its flawless perfection to escape his mind. Finally, he replied, "What's hard and solid on the outside can be soft and vulnerable on the inside."

Ripred grunted and looked at the table. "Always with the metaphors. But is that the real reason?"

Gregor shoved the last piece of his meal into his mouth, filling his stomach to the point where he wasn't stuffed but his hunger had ceased. Swallowing, he replied, "I just want to get her back. I just _need_ to get her back. Fighting with time and myself won't help that."

"Words of wisdom that mean nothing," Ripred moaned. He rubbed his rat eyes, aching them awake and alert as he stared down his sudden headache.

Looking for a change of subject, Gregor looked around once and asked, "And what about this place? Something about my previous visits tells me that any time we leave on a quest, especially one as important as this one, that there should be more people than we can handle there to see us off."

"Life I said," Ripred replied, "we're keeping low on this one. And on a more understandable note, you and your life aren't the only things to have changed in the past five years."

Another uncomfortable silence fell upon them. It stretched longer than any of the others, though, and soon they were simply sitting without meaning, both staring at the tabletop with a loss of words neither should have ever been capable of creating.

Finally, Ripred stood, and Gregor looked up to him.

"It's time," the rat said simply.

"Nothing else. Armor, weapons?"

"Armor won't stop the cutters for long, and it'll hinder your agility. As for weapons, the only things you bring are those that you can carry upon yourself, and if I'm not much mistaken ragers such as ourselves are best equipped with only our swords and claws."

Gregor only nodded, standing to join his comrade.

"Eaten enough? Drink?"

Gregor nodded again to both, even though he realized he had drunken nothing and that thirst was evident in his throat. He ignored it, as he had so many other things as of late, and followed the rat as he led the way from the room.

Gregor didn't pay attention to the route they took from there. He didn't want to. All he could think of suddenly was his desperation for success, and what he would do to himself if he failed. He didn't want to think about it, about what it would do to his mind, to his soul, to what was left of it... But he couldn't. Wouldn't. He wouldn't let that happen. Couldn't.

His determination was confusing.

He didn't think about it in vivid detail or for a large amount of time. He had planned to return to the here and now sooner rather than later, to clear his mind and get himself to focus more on the swinging scimitar at his hip rather than what that scimitar would soon be digging itself into.

And before he knew it or could prepare himself, they were on their departing platform.

It was the same one he had landed on two days before. In an effort to divert his mind, Gregor tried to memorize every detail of it as he walked forward, marveling how fast they had stepped forward that morning.

Like when he had landed there were only three humans and a flier on the platform. Mareth and Vikus were dressed in their formal attire, but for the first time Gregor saw the Viceroy wearing something other than his long robes. All three looked apprehensive and solemn, while their flier companion looked nothing but eager. Equinox, clearly excited and elated beyond belief, was shuffling anxiously from foot to foot, plainly impatient to get under way.

Groaning under his breath, Gregor caught a handful of Ripred's fur and leaned over to speak into his ear. "Did it have to be _him_? No other flier can takes us?"

Smirking, Ripred whispered back, "He's the only one big enough. Besides, he may not look or act it, but he's one of the more intelligent fliers out there. If we're in a pinch, believe me, he's the one we want to be covering our backs."

Gregor moaned in response, turning his attention to the three watchers as he and Ripred approached. Vikus gave a horribly wan smile and asked them, "Are you sufficiently supplied and prepared?"

"Yes," Ripred replied. "We've got everything. All we need now is the go ahead, and we're gone."

"Very good," Vikus said, and proceeded to pass on farewells to Ripred in an undertone.

Meanwhile, Mareth had limped his way over to Gregor and captured him in another breath-wrenching hug. Whispering into his ear, the general said, "No matter what happens, you'll always be remembered a hero here."

Pulling back slowly, Gregor observed his Underlander friend with a grimace. "Sometimes, being a hero really just means you died before you could make a mistake, and sometimes it's _because_ you made a mistake." Mareth kept silent after the comment, and Gregor moved on to Vikus as Ripred stepped to the general.

Vikus bowed low, lower even in his old age than Gregor could imitate. Going down as far as he could, Gregor came back to his full height with closed eyes. Taking a deep breath and wrenching them open, he muttered, "Vikus, I _will_ bring her back. I will tear down the Cutter Lair and the entire Underland if I have to, but I will bring her back. I promise you that."

Vikus nodded solemnly. "But at what cost?" In a whisper so low Gregor could barely hear, he added, "What will you have when she comes back? And will she still be the queen we have and love?"

Gregor shook his head. "That doesn't matter to me. _She_ does. And I won't fail. I swear."

Vikus surveyed him for a moment, and then held out a hand unsteadily in a very un-Underlanderlike fashion. After a second's hesitation, Gregor took it gently and shook. "Then I wish you luck, Gregor the Overlander. Fly you high."

"And you," Gregor replied. Taking a last glance at his old friend, he moved on to the final and his least favorite person of the three.

"Viceroy," he said, approaching and bowing at the same time.

But the Viceroy skipped return pleasantries. "Overlander. I know I was blunt in the council chambers and that it was only you and Master Ripred as planned to leave. But please, allow me to accompany you. I would be able to assist you greatly. I have powers beyond which----"

"Sir," Gregor interrupted, firm and commanding, sounding much older and much more surprising than he ever had in his life. "No one could appreciate that act more than I. Not even Luxa. But I am telling you, man-to-man, _not_ warrior-to-warrior, that where we go blood will be shed. And, more likely that not, some of that blood will be ours. For Regalia's good and for own safety, I can't let you go." The words almost pained him to say, but somehow he managed to get them out without choking.

In response the Viceroy stared at him soberly for the longest of times. Behind Gregor, Ripred remained stolidly passive, neither interfering nor ignoring the conversation. They remained there, like so, as each tried to stare the other down into submissiveness. Finally, as Gregor finally began to grow impatient, the Viceroy lower his head and dipped into a deep bow. Roughly, the Overlander returned the gesture, and as he stood again his opposite muttered, "Then fly you high as the stone sky."

Gregor stood tall again and nodded, turning away from them all as if nothing was wrong, as if what he was about to attempt wasn't completely insane. As if he would come back as unscathed as he went in, as if there was no chance that she was already dead and that they were only going after her to retrieve a dead corpse.

Ripred was already climbing on Equinox. For once, the bat seemed silent. He only spoke when he asked Gregor if he was ready for flight. Gregor was about to nod when something belatedly crossed his mind.

"Vikus!" he called out suddenly, and the old man hastened forward.

"Yes, Overlander."

Slowly, from beneath his overcoat, Gregor pulled the parchment from his night's writings. Holding it out at arm's length and examining it with a hateful and saddened eye, he lowered it so that Vikus could take it. "In... In the case that... somehow... I don't make it back... would you... would you give it..."

"I will make sure that Luxa receives it."

But Gregor shook his head nervously. "It's not for her."

Vikus regarded Gregor with confusion. "For Howard then?"

"No," Gregor said. "For Hazard. It's for Hazard."

Vikus raised a quizzical eyebrow, looking up to the rat's back where Gregor sat. Clearing his throat abruptly, he asked, "Are you sure?"

Gregor nodded. "Please make sure. He has to get it."

Vikus took a deep breath before depositing the note within his own long robe. Looking up to his old rat friend and the Overlander, he bowed for a final time and stated clearly, "I shall."

Without another word, Gregor turned away, and Equinox immediately took that as a sign to take off. As great wings unfurled around, Gregor resisted the impulse to look at the goodbye party. He had no desire to watch their already-mourning faces as they flew away on the air.

As they gained altitude away from the palace he spared a few moments to remember all he had of the city, gazing out at it as it flew past beneath. Realistically, he wondered horribly if he would ever see it again. More disturbingly, he found himself wondering if he wanted to see it again. He pushed the thought away quickly.

The city began to disappear beneath them as they neared the darkness of the tunnels.

Behind Ripred, Gregor observed the rat's eternally rooted head, determined through all willpower not to look back. Gregor forced himself to do the same, reluctantly but strongly forcing himself to keep his gaze locked ahead.

All light disappeared, and just at that moment Gregor felt himself wonder about the Viceroy's last minute request, and how easy he had put it down and away. He couldn't help thinking that if he had been in the Viceroy's place, with Luxa still missing and in danger, he would have done anything he could have to make sure he went on the rescue mission. He wondered what was the difference between he and that man. Maybe the Viceroy wasn't as determined. Maybe Gregor loved her more. Maybe the Viceroy trusted his judgment.

No matter the reason, though. It didn't change a thing.

Gregor was still riding the black bat into the darkness after a love he didn't really know he still possessed.

Not the Viceroy.

And nothing was going to change _that_.


	11. 10: In The Shadows

**Once again, I have so many to thank. Here to Ailat (x2), Mark, stephanie (x2), ****pomplamouse****, ****xxxxBlackTearsForeverxxxx****, ****alec-alumina****, ****Castaway5****, ****november21****, ****Luny Lovegud****, ****tcat75****, ****shadowblade546****, ****Sum Vi3t Kid,**** and ****Seraphania****.**

**Hehe, here come the cutters. We're getting there. Been making a lot of mistakes lately so hopefully I've taken the time to make this chapter better. Here's 10. Wait horribly in suspense for 11. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: ¡No me lo pertenezco! (Hehe, that's Spanish!)**

**10**

**In The Shadows**

The rock was flying past beneath without Gregor every really taking the time to notice it. His senses were already miles ahead, already working feverishly to map out the future battlefield, one he had never and had hoped to never have to traverse. Inevitable, it was by now, however. Obviously.

None of them spoke. The silence was too ominous to break. Not to mention all of them were listening fiercely for any sound from the dark that should not have been there. They were already nearing the edges of human territory, flying off into parts of cavern Gregor had never entered before.

Eventually, Equinox began to reach the limits to his own knowledge of the tunnels, and had to begin to ask Ripred for instructions as to where to fly. The rat didn't know much better the correct direction than did the flier, but he made an imperceptible effort to make it look like he did. As good as he was at masking it from Equinox, though, Gregor was satisfied to discover that he could identify it himself. It gave him the smallest push of hope. The very, very smallest.

As his two companions communed over the wanted direction, Gregor made the heaviest effort to clear his mind of everything; emotions, memories, missions, he tried to shove it all away, leaving only a clear mind in its place, where he could tap yet contain his rager side. Slowly, he began to work his labors around success, eliminating thoughts one by one ever so patiently. Keeping an ear open the entire time, his brain slowed to a peaceful tone, gradually and easily. His breathing slowed. His mind concentrated. He ignored his parched throat, his overworked muscles, his throbbing soul. And relaxed.

For a long time the three of them remained perfectly like that. Equinox flying. Ripred directing. Gregor waiting. Each knew what the others were doing, and either didn't care or respected their actions. They didn't have the time or strength to antagonize each other over anything at the moment, focused as they all were.

Using the great wind gusts of Equinox's wings, Gregor heard the rebounds of the sound and made himself a map of the tunnel as they went. As they flew ever deeper, he began to memorize the major twists of their journey, trying to keep a mind of the direction they were flying in just in the worst case that Equinox would not be there to carry them back. It was a precaution unlikely to be utilized, but Gregor was assuming the worst in every possible scenario.

Before a long time had passed in Gregor's perspective Ripred urged Equinox to use lighter flaps with his wings. They were passing over from human territory, into places it would do no good to be caught in. Too much air disruption would alert a cutter's antenna to their position, so that if any of their enemies happened to be passing below, they would be promptly discovered and destroyed.

For a while longer, they flew on, not speaking, barely breathing. Gregor could feel Equinox's heartbeat multiplying rapidly beneath the bat's furry skin, but strangely he found through close listening that both his and Ripred's own were perfectly steady, relaxed, and poised. It surprised him, though not to an overdue level. They were ragers. They were born to fight.

The very thought began to disgust, him but he pushed it deep before it could disturb any further.

They flew so long that Gregor began to lose track of the time. Over that time he began to feel Equinox's massive store of stamina begin slowly to lessen, shrinking little by little into oblivion. He was getting tired of the constant flying, but only Ripred knew where they had to land, and only the rat would tell them when they could stop flying.

Gregor's mind inadvertently began to drift into his observations. It began to lazily curl itself around the third pebble from the eighth stalagmite on their far right side, up to the shallow crevices in the ceiling. His focus was sharp enough for him to pick up those tiny details, even at such a tiny and profound level----

"Glide!" Ripred hissed abruptly at Equinox. The giant bat instantly obeyed, breaking his wings to a straight position on either side. Rigid and flat, the absence of their beats left the world of sound open to an array of other things in the dark...

The drips of sparse water from ceiling to floor...

Utter silence down the majority of tunnels breaking off their current one...

The distant pattering of hard feet over stone...

Gregor froze. Listening with all his might, he heard what Ripred had over Equinox's wings. His head instantly flashed in the direction of the foot sounds, mind and fear suddenly reeling in surprised anxiety.

Ripred, at the exact same time, frantically whispered, "On the wall!"

Compliantly, Equinox flung himself headlong towards their right wall, the closest of the two. Careening into in, the bat dug his claws into the rock, looking for holes in which they could catch. Nearly falling from his back, Ripred and Gregor both had to do their best just to keep from flying off of him. Buckling, they both seized him hard around his shoulders and held on for their lives, feet dangling over the silent ground as the feet came rushing near, closing and closing as Equinox silenced his wings and claws.

Gregor held his breath. Without it he couldn't echo, but he put that on a priority list far behind being discovered. Silently wishing the enemy away, he prayed and prayed for a safe passage through the interrupting confrontation.

All at once, sound exploded into the small cavern. From far below, on the rock floor, Gregor heard hundreds and hundreds of clawed legs racing quickly over stone, flying over it at speeds he couldn't even begin to guess. At the same time as he identified the bug feet, something inside his ears and brain told Gregor that whatever was below them was something completely different. It took him a moment to discern that he heard very few heartbeats among the hundreds and another to realize that there was a reason for that observation: there were hundreds of feet, yes, but there were very few beings to go with those feet.

Not daring to suck in breath, Gregor clung to Equinox and waited solemnly. Quicker than they had come whatever creatures dwelt below began to disappear, already off and down another of the side tunnels. Gradually, the sounds they brought with them followed, leaving in its place only a fearful silence.

Not daring to let his guard down at such suddenness, Gregor waited. First for a minute, and then three. He began to count slowly in his mind, waiting and waiting. When he got to eight hundred and twenty-seven, Ripred sighed heavily in relief and took in a great gust of breath. Taking it as a sign of "all clear", Gregor finally relaxed slightly, keeping a tight grip from where he still dangled from Equinox's back.

As the bat righted himself horizontally with all four of his claws, Ripred pulled himself back onto his back and waited patiently for Gregor to do the same. "Did you hear them?" he asked Gregor quietly.

"Yeah," Gregor replied, panting from the hanging exertion. Wiping his forehead of sweat, he stated, "Those weren't cutters."

"No," Ripred agreed. "But what _were_ they? I've never heard anything like those things in all of my life. What's more, those things were inside cutter boundaries."

"So what does that mean?"

"I'm not sure. I'm not sure we ever want to find out. All right, Equinox?"

"Yes, my lord," the bat answered calmly, although Gregor could feel the bat's chest heaving constantly and irregularly beneath them. "I am fine to continue at your discretion."

In safety and caution, Ripred waited a few minutes longer. Finally, once he was sure their creepy visitors wouldn't be returning, he ushered Equinox away from their hiding place and back into the air, head darting right and left every few seconds as he tried to identify their surroundings.

As they went, Gregor examined the tunnels with a highly elevated level of caution, taking care to double echo any rocks in the dark that were even on the verge of looking like a cutter or other creature. As had just been demonstrated to him, he realized that they were in as much danger in the air as they could be on the ground, and he wasn't all too keen on letting the cutters catch any of them with their backs turned.

Ripred began to ask Equinox to fly slower at irregular intervals. As the bat followed the command the rat darted his head left and right, breathing and occasionally clicking to gain bearings against the rocks and formations. Gregor didn't ask what was happening. He knew it would become clear before long.

He was correct.

"Equinox," Ripred said abruptly, stopping instantly in his inspections of the surrounding terrain. "Find the nearest crevice in the roof capable of hiding all three of us and get us into it. Quickly."

"Yes, my lord," Equinox panted, immediately veering off to the left. For a few moments he flew in mindless spirals and helixes, Gregor and Ripred holding on tightly for the ride. Finally, the bat did a double loop and flew up and into a hole that Gregor imagined in his mind's eye as much blacker than the others.

Equinox swung himself onto a solid ledge inside the mouth of the gap. Breathing hard, Gregor found the shelf large enough to support them all on their feet. Leaping down from the bat's back he landed in a hard crouch, cautiously making sure the rock wasn't about to crumble out from beneath his feet and send him to a penultimate and preemptive demise. Once he was sure it was sturdy, he stood to his full height, careful of the low roof above, stretching his legs achingly as Ripred followed him down from Equinox's back. Keeping a safe distance from the ledge, he turned back to the others and bent his knees so that he could fully extend his torso without twisting it.

Waiting for someone else to break the silence but finding that neither of them were willing to, Ripred sighed through his snout and wiped his paws in the dirt. Taking an answering deep breath, he said, "Here, Equinox, is where we must leave you."

"Are you sure?" Equinox pressed immediately. "I am positive I can ferry you farther, get you closer----"

"My friend," Ripred interrupted soothingly, "you have already carried the both of us much deeper than I had ever hoped to go in this Lair. I cannot thank you more for your assistance in this. As of now, though, Gregor and I must go the remaining distance on foot. No exceptions. No arguments."

Equinox did, in fact, open his mouth to spout disagreement. He hesitated a moment, though, and then hung his opinion on a period of indecision. Gnashing his teeth in consideration, the bat finally gave a long and exaggerated nod of reluctance, accepting the lord's words.

To them both, Ripred continued, "This is as deep as I've ever gone into this territory, and that was long, long ago, when the crawlers still had a hold on some of these lands. I know not what lies further on, only that very soon the cutter population colonies will begin, and with them our search for Queen Luxa."

Both bat and human nodded. Caught in his own irresolution, Gregor asked, "Will we just scour the entire land for her? Just like that, if we have to?"

"If we have to," Ripred answered grimly. "It's all we can do, with our limited intelligence of the coming ground. I have a few ideas of where they would hold her or keep her in a massive facility, but we truly have no insight on how or where they live. They could be in massive constructs or scattered in small groups. We truly don't know."

"What of Equinox?" Gregor furthered.

"Yes, am I to remain here, or return with reinforcements?" Equinox added.

"For the beginning, you will remain here," Ripred answered gravely. "But beyond that, I'm not sure what you will be able to stand. This is an open mission. It could last a day, or a year. I felt a small spring back down there towards the far wall around a mile back, but that won't last you long, and I really wonder how long the council will give us before they decide to take larger action."

"With all respect, sir, to hell with the council," Equinox stated, surprising Gregor. "I will remain here until you return or until I draw my final breath."

In the back of his mind, up to Gregor popped an image of a starving-crazed Equinox scrabbling hungrily through half-rotten cutter corpses in search of a meal. The gruesome sight was almost comical, but, of course, Gregor didn't laugh. He was far too concentrated for that.

Ripred grimaced. "I don't think I would advise that." The giant rat sighed, picked up a rock, numbly raking it across his overgrowing teeth. Throwing it back down in disgust, he added, "Wait no more than a week. If we do not return with Her Majesty by then, it is almost impossible that we will return at all."

Equinox hesitated in a response for a moment. Finally, he rumbled, "As you wish, my lord. Only, what if you discover that... her majesty has... perished?"

Ripred paused in his own turn, turning his back on them both and considering his response. Gregor focused intently on the rat, aware that Ripred knew this. He was quite curious, and in some ways personally, of the coming answer. Finally, after several breaths' silence, the rat replied, "If we do find that Luxa has not survived... then I do not plan on coming back, and I'm sure that neither does Gregor."

And Gregor wouldn't. He approved of the answer.

Equinox was subdued into silence.

As Ripred turned back to Gregor, the Overlander asked steadily, "Then what's our game plan?"

"I beg you pardon, boy?"

"Our plans. Our mission. Where are we going?"

Ripred let out a dry chuckle. Gesturing down and away from them, he rasped in a harsh tone, "That way. Somewhere. Beyond that, I really have no idea."

"And then what?" Gregor asked, holding his breath in anticipation of a horrible answer. He couldn't read the rat's eyes in the total darkness, and he could only wonder if they were flashing anger or sorrow.

"And then we start looking," Ripred replied slowly and evenly.

With nothing else to say, Gregor only nodded. It was a viable plan, the only one he realized they could formulate under the situation. A great part of his concentration was running over every little detail only for occupation, eager not to lumber around the edges of the more horrible possible outcomes of their endeavor. Racing through the current strategy was all that was standing between him and sudden sorrow at Luxa's unknown fate.

At length, Ripred clicked out of the crevice's opening, down towards the distant floor of the cavern, checking for any items of objects that should not have been there. Turning afterwards, satisfied of his verification, he stared in their direction of the dark and asked, "Any more questions?"

Gregor remained silent. Beside him, he heard Equinox open his mouth for a last time. Whatever he had been about to say, though, he quickly retracted the idea, and nothing broke the silence.

Nodding to himself, Ripred waited for a few moments of pause before moving on. "Very good. Equinox, take us back to that spring. Our journey begins there."

Rat and Overlander climbed back atop their flier, and Equinox leaped off back through the hole to catch himself upon the air. Flying in deliberately subtle strokes, he soared at a steady pace until Gregor caught echo of the water below. Circling lower, the bat landed with rough strides by the pond's edge, leaning over for his distracted passengers to disembark.

Ripred immediately leaped down and lounged over to the spring to drink. Gregor jumped away but made only to wait for the rat to finish, looking away instead of going to refresh. His thirst was dire, but once more he ignored it. Only when Ripred stood to his full height and growled, "Drink," did he reluctantly go to the pool's edge. Surprising himself, he drank an amount close to his own body weight in the effort to quench his thirst. When he stood again, the liquid seemed to weigh him down, regrettably.

But he ignored that, too. It was something that would quickly disappear.

"Ready?" Gregor asked softly when he had finished, watching Ripred pause to glance out into the darkness.

Pulled from deep thoughts, Ripred nodded. Turning to Equinox, he said, "Stay in the crevice. Only come out if you have to drink and you are positive there's nothing down here that could be of a danger to you. Remember, a week at the most. Absolutely no longer."

Without another word, Ripred turned away and began to walk off into the darkness, resigning himself to a mission and quite possibly a fate that he had never had the nerve to face before. Gregor instantly turned to follow, ignoring the dread that began to build in his soul at the thoughts. His legs seemed to move on their own, but before he could take more than a few of them Equinox's voice pulled him back to the spot.

"Overlander," Equinox whispered urgently. "Needn't you a torch for your light source?"

Gregor paused, surprised. The bat hadn't noticed his use of echolocation. He thought that strange, since it had been plainly in use many ties along the journey. Perhaps, he thought, the bat was simply much more distracted, the same as he and Ripred were. So, pushing away confusion and dread and trying to sound much more courageous than he felt, he told Equinox six words that conveyed a lot more than only his abilities.

"I don't need light to see."

And without another word, Gregor the Overlander turned off to Ripred and walked away into the unknown darkness.

**END OF PART 1**


	12. 11: The Cutter Lair

**Happy thoughts in the direction of ****november21****, Ailat, ****Castaway5****, ****alec-alumina****, ****shadowblade546****, ****Fitz Mark****, ****tcat75**** (x2), stephanie, and ****Luny Lovegud****.**

**Part 2 is here. Perfecto. Now it is time to dive into the world of love, life, scars, and hell. Please, at your discretion, enter The Cutter Lair. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I won't tell if you don't...**

**PART 2**

**Found**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**11**

**The Cutter Lair**

The ground was softer.

The air was thicker.

The smell was worse.

And the silence was perfect.

Gregor could listen and hear, just by a single one of his near-silent footsteps, the ricochets off of an array of dozens of stalactites somewhere between five hundred and seven hundred meters down a cacophony of three side tunnels. That fact alone scared him, just because no one should have the right to be in such solitude.

Ripred was there, of course, but that amounted for little. They didn't dare to speak, and the rat's paws muffled his steps perfectly, giving Gregor the fast illusion in the dark that he was alone.

They walked side-by-side, amazingly fast for all of their caution. At every moment Gregor's hand rested on the hilt of his scimitar, wondering why he hadn't been given or thought to retrieve any armor for the mission.

For a long time they proceeded in perfect silence. Gregor's blood rushed ever faster as he searched frantically in the dark by echo for any sign of cutters or the creatures they had previously observed. He found none, which should have been comforting, but instead all he felt was an increase in adrenaline, and slight curiosity and anxiety at the absence of adversaries. Where were they? And where was Ripred leading them?

Not able to take the suspending darkness anymore, he taped Ripred hastily in the shoulder to get the rat's attention. Immediately, he stopped, waiting for Gregor to continue. Squatting low so that he was speaking directly up into the giant rat's ear, Gregor whispered in a voice so low he wasn't even sure he could hear it himself, "I feel blind. I can sense everything around us, but... we left Equinox over an hour ago, and we're a lot deeper into their territory than is acceptable."

"And?" Ripred whispered back cautiously, equally silent.

"And we've not been acknowledged. We're walking completely unscathed in their lands. Where the hell are they? And _why_ the hell are we just walking in?"

In the dark, Ripred cast a furtive snout out into the distance of the tunnels, scanning for a moment in silence before turning back to Gregor. "They haven't acknowledged us because they don't know that we're here. Even if they did, I don't think they'd be concerned. Cutters are for the whole, and they don't care how many die to take care of their mission. If they did see us, it would only be as a big gnawer and a strangely dressed killer, not as two ragers secretly invading to retrieve their queen. In their eyes (or antennae, if you will), we are nothing more than a simple nuisance which could easily be overcome. They won't be concerned until we make our attack, and then, by their perspective, we would only be annihilated. Except, we haven't been seen, or else we would have at least been aware of their presence."

Casting a huge sigh, Ripred turned away for a moment. Still facing away, he muttered something more Gregor couldn't hear. "What?"

Ripred turned back to him with gnashing teeth. "I said, And that's just what worries me."

"Beg your pardon?"

"You heard right." Ripred paused for a moment, and Gregor felt him lower his entire body to the ground in the dark. Pressing an ear to the hard dirt, the rat closed his eyes in concentration and listened with all of his rager might. After a minute or so he climbed back to his feet and nodded grimly. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Complete silence."

"What about scent?" Gregor suggested, but Ripred only shook his head distractedly.

"The air has been clean for as far as we've traversed. They're not around."

"And what does that mean?" Gregor asked, carefully lowering himself to the ground so he could listen as Ripred had. He didn't hear anything, but his human ears were nothing compared to those of a rat's.

"I don't know what it means," Ripred sighed, running a grimy paw over his fur. "But I do know what it doesn't mean. It doesn't mean that they've found us. It doesn't mean that we are of considerable threat to them. And it doesn't mean that they're keeping Luxa here."

"Is that all?" Gregor reiterated sarcastically, his hands beginning to claw deep in the dirt in impatience.

"Actually, no. My brilliance has just informed me of an important miss in my speculation." Gregor rolled his eyes, but Ripred neither saw nor waited for them, instead continuing right off in his explanation. "The last time I was anywhere near these tunnels, the holes and tunnels branching off of here served as a sort of colony catacombs to a large portion of the cutter population, and the place was just simply crawling with them."

"Please transfer that from the incredible incomprehension you just spoke."

A deep growl came from Ripred's throat, and Gregor guessed that the rat was in his own turn rolling his eyes, but, despite himself, he still answered. "This used to be a center stage operation facility for a cutter sect, and now it's completely empty. That means that the cutters are somewhere else. As in, not here. As in, more likely than not they are protecting and guarding _her_."

"That's a hasty reaction," Gregor argued immediately, seeing flaws by the dozens in the rat's observation. "First, just because the cutters aren't here now doesn't mean that they're with her. It just means that they're not here. They could be anywhere, maybe just moved on to another section of the territory. Secondly, whatever is going on would have to be intensely important if they were to pull so many of their own to protect a single human. Thirdly, even if they are protecting her, we can't just make that assumption and rush off after them. If I understand your descriptions, there are a _hell_ of a lot more cutters there than you and I could ever handle."

Ripred actually laughed in response to Gregor's last comment. "Ah, my young human friend, it matters not. These are cutters, remember. Believe me, if the central matrix of their collective minds has decided to pull an entire _sect_ to protect any one person, then they've decided to pull them all."

Gregor's heart stopped. "What?"

Ripred nodded. "That's right. They're _all_ there. Every last one of them."

Gregor froze for an instant, contemplating. Finally, he just shook his head and closed his eyes. "That's not possible. There've gotta be millions of 'em. How could they ever congregate a number like that? And how do you even know enough to make that assumption?"

"I grew up at the very edge of the tri-border between cutter lands, gnawer territory, and the Dead Lands. Accustomed with my species' less than motherly loving way of living, that was like being surrounded completely by pure evil and anger. You learn, when you live there, how your enemies think and how to think like them, and you learn much, _much_ faster than you were ever supposed to.

"On the other note, these are _cutters_, boy. They don't care that it's impossible. They just do it."

Gaping in incomprehension, Gregor complained, "How are we supposed to stand a chance against an army of _millions_? What are we going to do? Think them to death? That's impossible, Ripred. What the hell are we gonna do?"

"Die horribly, most likely," Ripred replied humorously and truthfully.

"Shut up," Gregor retorted instantly. "You're not helping here."

"How the hell am I supposed to help, boy?" the rat angrily replied. "It's a goddamn lost cause. We can't do it. That's your answer."

"I can't accept that," Gregor stifled. "I won't. We can't just leave her in their clutches. We have to get her. We have to find a way. Besides, this is pure speculation. It could be that she's lying against a cold rock in the middle of nowhere all alone." He cringed immediately at the thought, noticing the discomfort she would feel in that particular scenario. Still, it would probably upgrade that which she was receiving now.

"I never planned on leaving here there," Ripred replied. "But do you really think that we stand a bloody chance? That we'll succeed?"

Gregor thought for a moment, and grudgingly answered honestly. "No."

"Excellent, then. Let's go."

Gregor shot to his feet as the rat started to move again. "What?"

Ripred halted, spinning around. "The queen. Luxa. We've gotta go rescue her. Go blank there for a moment, boy?"

"Wait, what?"

"What what?"

"Stop!" Gregor shouted far too loud for either of their goods, causing his voice to rebound horrendously off of the walls. He flinched horribly at the sound, and Ripred did as well. For the longest of moments neither moved, waiting for the ricocheting echo to die down, and praying that nothing would come of it, or come for them. Slowly, silence resumed, and both tried to calm their beating hearts.

After minutes of waiting in agony, Gregor finally relaxed, moving back closer to his rat companion. "What was that? You just changed attitudes in like a second. What the freakin' hell?"

"I can't just leave her here," Ripred reasoned easily. "She's my bond, after all. And anyways, I do, as much as it pains me to admit it, feel a moderate level of affection and care for the girl, etcetera, etcetera..." He waved his paws in front of him in a continuing motion, emphasizing his point.

"So that's it?" Gregor added incredulously. "We go, we die in the attempt, she doesn't get saved."

"Well," Ripred began, scratching his chin with both front paws as he rose up creakily on his back legs, "I don't think there's a huge chance of success. Alright, damn it, there's none. We're not going to make this, or at the very, _very_ best, one or two of us three will die in the effort. But then again, as I recall, there were things creatures across the Underland considered impossible, before a warrior from above fell into our realms and saved us all from destructive apocalypse..."

"Point made," Gregor interrupted impatiently. "So now you're suddenly on my side. Great. Only now, we're still here, and she's still not. That's not helping our cause at all. Assuming by your estimates that we'll all keel over and die, at least where do you expect them to be keeping her?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Ripred replied argumentatively.

"You were just going----"

"For the love of Sandwich, bloody use your head, boy!" the rat growled out angrily and flustered. "There are millions of cutters all in one spot. With that many you would be able to hear or smell them from miles and miles away. All we have to do is walk around this place until we catch one of the two, and then follow it to the source."

"And then get our asses whooped," Gregor sneered under his breath.

"What was that, boy?"

"I didn't say anything," Gregor said, raising his hands in obvious defense. Lowering them immediately and changing the subject, he darted his head around the cavern quickly. "Sounds like our plan. Or at least, it sounds like it until we actually get there. Then we got problems. But until then, I think I can follow this. Lead away, then, comrade."

Without a response, Ripred turned away and intensified his step, unconcerned with noise. Without talk Gregor realized the justification of the rat's ignorance of caution: if they were right, which both of them were suddenly so convinced they were, they would be able to hear the cutters in the far distance long before the cutters would be able to hear them, because of the massive numbers of the cutters in question. They would have plenty of time to obscure themselves in their respective background distinctions by the time the cutters chose to take a closer look at the chance of perpetration.

Once again, Ripred took the head in frantic search while Gregor followed closely at his heels, head darting back and forth continually as the rat's did so ahead, but his in turn to check for any danger on the surrounding walls. By their theory there was no reason to: every cavern, tunnel, and chamber in the Lair should have been empty, all cutters gone off to guard Luxa. Still, Gregor felt uneasily that there a simple, unexplainably large dark fact that he and Ripred were completely missing, and although it was just by instinct he couldn't believe that he was lying to himself. Anyway, in one case or another, one could never be too careful, especially when that one was walking harmlessly through the territory of an aggressive and selfless species who had ripped his love away from her life.

As his security sweeps became more and more passive, Gregor found his concentration and determination slipping into a different world of lesser consideration. Ripred was constantly surveying the air, ground, and darkness for anything that teamed with a recent direction of cutter activity. Gregor, however, whose senses weren't as acute as the rat's, obviously, found his attention wandering and his focus slipping. It surprised him, because, as a rager and truly as someone who liked to pay close thought to the matter at hand, he hardly ever lost his poise. It almost frightened him, actually. The loss of his concentration could mean that his battle senses would begin to fail him as well if he ever had to call upon them in close situations. That, in turn, meant that Luxa's chances might be in the vulnerability of being compromised, all through a slight failure he may perhaps commit sometime in the immediate and dire future.

Quickly, though, he pushed himself off of that train of thought. It would do not good to worry himself over future things of which he might never have the chance to actually do. Mentally, he slapped himself a dozen times, violently urging his consciousness to fight itself back to the here and now, focused and attentive.

But he found nothing.

Not letting his mind wander upon itself allowed time to take its full extent in passing. Even so, though, it went eventually, and Gregor was peacefully aware of it as it went.

First went a single hour.

Then two.

Four.

Six hours of searching were suddenly gone, Gregor refusing to lose his hope and Ripred never once speaking a word as he led them both deeper into the Cutter Lair and searching for any hint as to the cutter's location.

Gregor never let his mind move off of his caution rounds, but soon enough skepticism began to overlap his urgent anxiety. What was this? They had penetrated far deeper than he had ever hoped or even expected them to go, and still they had yet to see a single cutter or even a clue that a cutter had previously been there. Nothing at all, not even a forgotten print in a pile of light dust.

Ripred never said a word, but Gregor could tell that the absence of truly anything was annoying the rat as well. The Overlander suddenly began to experience a new kind of fear, one that told him that only endless darkness awaited them. The feeling was irrational, there because only of pain and emptiness. But it was still there, and Gregor wondered if, for some strange and distant cruelty, it was in some way inexplicably true.

And then, abruptly and out of utterly nowhere, Ripred halted in his tracks.

Brought up short, Gregor stumbled silently and got himself in an unsteady crouch to the side. Righting himself quickly, he strained immediately to listen for the sounds of pattering claws and legs, and even sniffed the air a few times to check for any strange stenches. Curiously enough but not overly surprisingly, he could find nothing.

Bending over slightly and leaning over Ripred's ear, Gregor whispered softly, "What it is? Can you hear them? Can you smell them?"

To all three questions at the same time, Ripred just shook his head devastatingly slowly from left to right and back, over and over again. Aloud, he muttered back, "No, none of them."

"Then what is it?"

Ripred didn't respond immediately. Gregor tried to practice cold patience in waiting for the answer, but after over a minute of waiting nothing had come. He was about to ask again when the rat finally took a breath and let it out. "Do you feel the ground?"

Gregor was about to reply unthinkingly when he comprehended the words. Flashing himself to stillness in an instant, he focused on nothing but keeping his body rooted to the spot. As a black quiet ensued around them both, he gradually became aware of the faintest of tremors in the hard dirt, rumbling only slightly from forward ahead to back. The quiver was only slight and completely steady, but it was perfectly there, and Gregor now wondered how he had not picked up on it before.

Tensing, Ripred suddenly rose to his full height. Growling deep and straining to listen, he snarled quickly and quietly, "With me. On the walls!"

Rising on his feet, Gregor leaped over a small rock and sprinted completely with the huge rat as they bounded towards the nearest wall, the hard one on their left. Coming alongside it, Ripred leveled out and Gregor followed suit, so that they ran perfectly parallel with it in the complete darkness.

Gradually, the vibrating became heavier, larger, and slowly the sound of the shakes began to emerge with the feeling. Running a bare hand lightly along the wall as he went, Gregor thought he could feel faint and individual strikes every time a distant leg fell, but he hoped it was only in his distant head, just as he hoped the creeping anxiety filling his mind was completely artificial and unjustified.

Over a short period of time, he suddenly became aware of Ripred slowing his run ahead of him. Abruptly, the rat completely stopped, and Gregor had to as well, almost running into and over the giant creature. Standing upright on hind legs, Ripred took three sniffs into the air, waving his grimy snout to and fro in the air.

And then, quickly, he wheeled around to Gregor and whispered, "Scale the walls!"

Without waiting for confirmation of the command or even wondering at the absurdity Gregor turned and leaped directly at the wall, finding handholds in midair and grasping hold of them as he landed. Not even doubting his rat companion for a second, he immediately found others and quickly began to heave himself upward. On his forward side Ripred was digging his claws even faster through the rock, scrambling up and past the Overlander and towards the evident ceiling.

At a certain point about twenty feet into their ascent the wall suddenly broke off to form a sturdy ledge against the rock face. Ripred had already rolled over onto it, and Gregor quickly did the same. Stumbling on his hands and knees, he came into a crouch before Ripred growled, "On your back. Don't move. Quickly!"

Gregor complied without complaint. He flipped himself and lied down instantly, already mentally calming himself to slow breath. As sound became nonexistent a new noise reached his ears.

Thousands of feet, pounding hard over ground very, very close.

And just as he registered that fact, below them, into the tunnel they had just been trekking stormed an army of creatures. By sounds alone Gregor was disgusted. Hundreds of thousands of legs came down to shake and break the cavern floor, which led to hundreds of thousands of beings pounding down the way. He couldn't even begin to calculate their actual numbers, but by echo alone Gregor was intimidated and instantly frightened, and the mental chances of a successful mission in his opinion immediately dropped extensively.

Over the next several minutes the chaos below began to dissipate. The poundings lowered in volume and the scrapings of claws became less frequent and fewer. Judging by the amount, Gregor could tell that the group was thinning, becoming farther apart and less. Finally, with a final click from the lower darkness all became quiet. And deathly still.

As before, neither Gregor nor Ripred allowed several moments to pass before they dared to move. When they were finally assured of a clear coast, Gregor released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, sitting up and taking several deep sighs. Wiping a slightly running nose and staring off back into the darkness in the direction the noises had disappeared into, Gregor said, "You good?"

"I am fine," Ripred replied, climbing onto hind paws and standing up on the ledge's edge. "How fare you?"

"That sounded like the entire damn Cutter species," Gregor snarled in response, completely ignoring the question, climbing slowly to his own feet. Conscious of the high drop over the shelf, he edged away until he hit the opposite wall ten feet farther away.

"Not nearly. That was only a routine patrol squadron," Ripred replied, running a paw over the wall. Gregor was already doing the same, and could feel the same thing at the height they were at on the ledge. Closer rumbling, shaking in the stone. They were closer.

Running a sharp claw along a short extent of the stone, Ripred whispered out an order, "This way. On your speed." Not even waiting for verification or response the rat began to take off quickly once more on the narrow ledge. Less hastily and anxiously avoiding the edge, Gregor followed.

They ran along the edge for four and a half minutes. Each moment the intensity of the sound and vibration in the rock underneath became harder, to the extent that Gregor was on the verge of having a hard time keeping his footing on the loose stone. Running a hand along the rough wall, Gregor found a handhold every few feet as he went in the case that he might need a grip at any moment. Only once did he actually slip, and he threw out a hand with rager's instinct to catch himself before he could go tumbling to an untimely demise.

At a point along Ripred slowed again and turned his head to the wall beside him as he sent out a series of hard clicking noises. Gregor did the same and sensed the same thing that the rat did: a wide hole in the rock face, a new tunnel cracked out of the mineral and extending deeper into its extent.

Ripred turned to Gregor in the dark, perhaps looking for encouragement. Gregor remained impassive, however, and the rat had to make the eventual decision. After a further moment of consideration, he shrugged silently and simply took off down the stony corridor.

Following, Gregor's mind jumped away from the tremors below his feet and went instead to what was causing them. A hand instantly hardened over his scimitar, and he physically had to resist instinct in drawing the weapon. Impatience was climbing steadily inside him, for although his mind wanted nothing more than to never face another living being in combat again his instincts and long-dead heart were screaming for blood in countless different languages, all of evil and all of war.

Suddenly, snatching out of reveries and memories, Gregor jolted mentally awake as he noticed something off in the tunnel. For a moment he was caught off guard as he tried and failed to identify the difference in his senses. For a long moment he was unduly confused, until it dawned upon him all of a sudden that he could _see_.

Distantly, from far down curves and twists of the tunnel he couldn't yet see, light was streaming into the depths of its extents. He couldn't see the source, or what it was rebounding off to come as deep as him, but Gregor was beginning to actually see shades of rock in the walls and the outline of Ripred's silhouette running ahead of him in the narrow and shallow tunnel.

And then the tunnel steepened. Both ragers suddenly found themselves climbing instead of walking. The walls became more cracked and the path became more unstable. Ripred rounded a stiff curve and nearly tripped, and Gregor slipped twice over a loose collection of pebbles at a bend.

But more than anything else, the thumping was no longer simply coming from the rock beneath their pulsing feet. It was now also filling the air around them, and Ripred's ears were dancing in frantic anticipation.

Ripred turned one last corner and skidded to an immediate halt. Gregor came to his side and stopped as well, cautious in the case of an enemy ahead.

The path steepened even more, up to nearly forty-five degrees. But, more importantly, at the top of the stiff ascent there was an opening in the rock, from which was spilling the mysterious light. A side branch split off about halfway up the narrow rock break, but Gregor had only eyes for the opening.

Without waiting for Ripred to say anything and disregarding caution completely, Gregor began to climb the path. Scrambling hand over hand in the loose dirt, he slowly gained the ground needed to reach the top. Ripred didn't call him back, and not for a moment did he consider the operation a bad idea. He only clawed ahead and reached for the edge of the small portal of light. Pulling himself up, he gazed over the edge to view the source of glare.

What he saw almost caused him to let go.

Far below, hundreds of feet away at least, a great cavern floor lay. Spreading for what looked like miles in any direction except beneath the hole they were housed in, the extent of the cave lapped far and wide into the distance. The light below came from great fires, so bright and intense that Gregor couldn't see what was burning beneath them. The infernos were numerous and extensive inside the cavern, and they blared anyway he could see. But besides the great columns that spread from low ground to remote ceiling and the fires that raged around, Gregor could not see the ground. There were too many cutters.

Every solid inch of ground was swarming over and over with the brutal and cruel creatures. He could barely stand to look at the gruesome and ugly mass that they were, but Gregor forced himself to, trying to stomach the appearance while he contemplated the numbers. More than millions. Ten millions. Hundreds. Maybe even _billions_. All in a single cavern. Contemplation made his nausea worse. Red and black ants crawled up and over each other just in the frantic attempt to get where they had to go. Looking down, Gregor could actually see poor beings become trampled as their fellows hastened to reach their destination. Even in the farthest distance the writhing mass roamed, and the entire scene was quite possibly the most frightening and ghastly sight Gregor had ever before beheld.

Lowering himself away from the hole and onto his back, Gregor tried to contain the look of horror that had entered his expression. He instantly found that he couldn't, and instead covered his mouth in preparation for the meal he hoped would not reemerge.

As he tried to withhold his sickness, Ripred climbed up beside him and grimly peered over the edge of the hole for his own look. The rat remained looking for less than a second before he himself retracted his gaze with a horrible look of anxiety. Turning brutally to Gregor, he spoke in a low and grim tone. "Welcome to the Cutter Lair, Gregor."

"Thank you so fricking damn much."


	13. 12: The Cutters

**Thee be thanketh, thy ****alec-alumina****, ****november21****, ****Castaway5****, ****Luny Lovegud****, Unnamed17, ****shadowblade546****, ****Fitz Mark****, and stephanie.**

**Alas, things are grim! Here be Chapter 12 for ye, and all of its chaos and troubles with it. Beware of sadness and unfortunate peril in this and future chapters, but also remember to have fun! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: It should be illegal to own something. Yeah.**

**12**

**The Cutters**

They retreated a ways back down the tunnel, both for secrecy and to prevent disgust. Gregor was doing everything he could just to keep the repulsive vision of Luxa buried amongst those horrid creatures from his mind, and most of his conscious thought was restraining himself from running away in fear. He felt like a simple coward, and he was completely ashamed of it.

Ripred halted amongst the loose stones midway down the passage and lowered himself down to the ground in an uncomfortable sitting position. Gregor reluctantly and grimly joined him there, sinking to the ground as his hopes sunk to dismal failure.

Ripred looked up to his face, and in two words Gregor responded to the curious glance with enigmatic sorrow. "We're doomed."

"To put it simply," the rat replied.

"So you agree now?"

"In some things." Ripred sighed and flicked an ear in the direction of the looking gap, back up the short passage. Listening to the poundings of cutter claws against the rock far below, he continued, "But not in others. We're doomed by a quick glance, especially by you. But mostly that's through Overlander disgust, and the other half is just through pure numbers. But we are also not doomed for a very different reason, and you can't see that because you're looking at it wrong."

"I beg your pardon?" Gregor replied incredulously.

"You're thinking like a human," Ripred answered, leaning back against the wall and surveying Gregor with hard eyes. "You won't get through this by thinking like one of us----or rather, one of you. You have to look at it through their eyes. Think like a cutter. Be a cutter, boy."

"Ripred, we have to get her _now_!" Gregor erupted abruptly, crouching forward as close to his rat companion as he could. "If you know what we have to do, let's go and do it----not sit around until I come up with it, too."

"I want to know what you believe," Ripred replied softly after a short pause. "If only to compare it with my own resolution."

Gregor sighed loudly, making his exasperation and annoyance plain, causing them to overlap into his fear and worry. "What am I supposed to be seeing with my _cutter_ eyes?"

"The fact that we're not doomed," Ripred answered knowingly, shoving his own head roughly against the rock in an awakening motion. "And also how you can tell that and the way we are going to overcome the odds."

Hardly understanding a word his comrade had spoken, Gregor plunged his mind reluctantly into thought, his muscles and bones anxiously waiting to be up and into frantic motion again. He was impatient, and he knew that could cost him a very great much in a very short period of time. But he ignored it all, and instead went directly into intense thought, for distraction and because of the newly formed image of Luxa being trampled by ugly red cocoons of hard skin.

After a bit of sharp concentration, Gregor slowly sat up and eyed Ripred with confused skepticism. Taking a deep breath before his plunge, Gregor said, "Normally, I would say that they keep any captive as close to them and as fortified as would be completely possible. The problem with that is..." He left the sentence hanging, not quite sure exactly what its ending was.

But Ripred did. "The problem is, that's the human opinion. Maximum fortification, maximum strength, least possibility of death and espionage combined. It's true to form, but, believe it or not, the cutters are much smarter than that."

"So then..."

"Just be a cutter, boy," Ripred said, shaking his head, though not in a dismissive or repugnant way. Just enough to say that the extra step should be taken. "Thing like one of them."

Gregor stared back across the darkness at his mentor and relative friend. For a moment, he made the attempt to clear his mind, and to contemplate the actual action. Finally, he actually thought. And he saw. "Perhaps," he said aloud, his mind forming coherent idea even as he spoke it to Ripred, "they wouldn't follow that path because we would think that their exact reasoning. But even the same as that, as cutters, they wouldn't care about maximum protection or anything. It wouldn't matter to them how many of them it would take to keep her guarded in an attack, as long as she stayed in their custody in the end. By that, I think they would try to cross and manipulate our suspicions by putting it at the opposite. She would be in a small holding zone, most likely along the edge of this massive cavern or congregation or whatever it is. And, most conveniently, probably either drugged or poisoned into unconsciousness, if the cutters somehow have to ability to do that."

"Very good," Ripred said in an appraising voice that was perfectly even. He added humorlessly, "Could have put it much better myself. Now, there is one thing to consider in this little found-out scheme of yours. Precisely, that is the fact that cutters are clever."

Raking a hand across the floor over the harsh vibrations, Gregor responded quickly. "Of course. The thing to consider because of this, however?"

"They don't know we're here. Even still, I would put it far past them to consider the rare possibility of us being wise as well. That means that they might know that we know that they might have changed their position to this idea of yours. That would also dictate that they do a double switch, causing them to run back along the lines of their previous plan. However, since they themselves are clever, if they knew that we knew that they knew to change their base of capture, then perhaps they would once more revert to the edge plan. Then again, since we know that, and they might know that we know that they know that we know----"

"Enough," Gregor moaned, rubbing his eyes as a headache began to implode his brain to smithereens. "Enough, please! I get the picture." He could almost hear Ripred smirking grimly in the dark as the Overlander banged his tired mind against the wall behind him in a desperate motion to clear his thoughts. Recovering through his pain, Gregor added, "So, after all of that confusion, what do you actually think the cutters have done with Luxa?"

"Truthfully?" Gregor nodded and Ripred sighed in thought. "Left to me, which it is, I would say that the cutters wouldn't bother with any of that damn reverse psychology and what not I just put you through. I, for my professional guess, say that they've chosen to keep her at a location around the outside as opposed to the obvious holding inside."

Gregor nodded again, running his fingers through his grimy hair and down to trace the sharp scars on his neck. "So where does that put the exact location?"

"On that note, I haven't the foggiest clue." Ripred hopped instantly to his feet, gazing around. Redundantly stubborn, Gregor remained seated, watching patiently from far below as the rat swept his gaze left and right. "By another guess, I would say that it would be somewhere around the edge. See? Even in the darkest times I can make jokes..."

"Hilarious, Ripred."

"Yeah, yeah." The giant rat ran a sharp claw over his chest and looked once more to the left and right. He sighed for a second time of the past few moments, and then launched himself into a history description. "This tunnel we find ourselves is the result of a chance earthquake. Pure coincidence, and I would say that it's completely of that making, nothing of artificial construction. I don't know how far it leads or why it's shaped like this, but judging from certain patterns in the rock I would have to say that it's at least five hundred years old, made way back when the serpents still dominated this region on their borders."

Gregor ran a hand through the air, feeling its density and mustiness. "And this helps us how?"

"I'm not sure," Ripred replied thoughtlessly, still examining his surroundings. "There is a chance it leads a good way around that cavern, branching off into smaller or several more separate chambers. As that were, we could utilize it to our advantage."

"As opposed to looking around blindly for some way to observe our dear friends' habits and marching patterns?"

"About that, yeah." Ripred stood upon hind legs and crossed his paws over his chest. "I would say that this would be out best bet."

Gregor hopped quickly to his feet, stretching an inopportune cramp forming in his left thigh. "Then let's get on with it. I'm really not getting a very good feeling with all of this shaking around here."

"You're not supposed to," Ripred replied, already moving off down the tunnel. Not fearing being overheard, he called back over his bobbing shoulder, "In general, the only way cutters can communicate with other species is by a strange volley of clicks and stomps through their amassed footing processes. Right now, they're utilizing all of themselves to send a collective, repeated message out to the world in general."

"Can you understand it?" Gregor asked, stepping over a sharp stone and sliding around a rough corner into an ascending bite of trail.

"Roughly," Ripred replied. "My closest uncle taught me how to understand it, but that was decades ago. As far as I can comprehend now, their dance is sending off a general message of, 'Not your territory, get the hell out or we'll kill you.' "

Ignoring the bluntness of the decrypted message, Gregor instead made a side comment. "Never knew you had any 'close' relatives." He immediately regretted the question, fearing it might stir up memories in Ripred of his dead family.

But Ripred continued in the conversation without pause. " 'Had' is a key word there. He was only close because of my recently discovered rager side. He was somewhat of a lord among gnawers, and he had quite an influence. He tried to drag me under his rule, and made it his short life mission to domesticate me to his standards. Anyway, I was too young but I eventually realized what he was doing, so I went independent. He didn't like it and sent some of his chums after me."

"I imagine that ended nicely," Gregor stated sarcastically.

"Pretty much," Ripred replied with a gruff laugh. "I went back and served them for his small lunch. He died before I ever saw him again."

The conversation ended there, and for a while they both walked in stony silence, surveying with all of their acute senses the tunnels around them. As they walked on, Gregor felt the vibrating beneath his feet grow steadily in some places as they went and decreased in others. True to Ripred's suspicions, Gregor could now pick out a pattern amongst the distant cutter steps, and although he couldn't make out the message in it he could easily detect the repeated sequence as it played out over and over again. Soon it was imprinted upon his mind, so much that he almost caught himself humming the progression aloud as it went for an nth time.

The lighting had all but disappeared, giving way only to the black and blind. Only echo showed them the way, as the tunnel widened and narrowed appropriately, branching this way and that, but never completely cutting off. They walked ever deeper, never quite seeing where they were going and being constantly cautious of the route in which were taking, less they run into a surprise adversary or three.

For a number of minutes that Gregor declined from counting and tried not to register, they walked in complete silence and perfect observation. Abruptly, though, Ripred pulled up to a stop and Gregor heeled still behind him. Pausing and whispering lightly over his shoulder, Ripred muttered, "Do you see that?"

Gregor looked up ahead for any change in previous conditions, and saw it on the second pass-by. "The light level just went up."

"Barely, but still there," Ripred responded. "On your caution." The rat once again set off down the tunnel, but he was now going quieter and more stealthily than before. Gregor followed behind, silently marveling how he could drag his heavy bulk over so easily.

Gregor himself roamed over the stones and earth easily, much more conspicuously than he had believed himself capable of. Not one loose pebble was knocked free under his boot as he scaled the rock in careful bounds, measuring himself to keep silent pace with Ripred.

Slowly, the light level grew. Remotely, Gregor began to hear traces of more than just vibrations, actually sounds blasting through an opening in the rock to the mayhem on the level far below them. Ripred began to move surreptitiously, keeping on the wall and letting a hand guide his movements while his nose and ears twitched for clues. Gregor only followed, reserving his own observations for his own thought or garbage disposal, more confident in the rat's opinion that his own.

Over a long period of time, as the light began to peak again and the sounds became more hectic, Ripred slowed and lowered himself into a low crouch as he walked. Unwilling to resort to such close proximity with the unfamiliar ground, Gregor lounged close to the wall, ready to dive to the ground in the event that the action was required.

They cautiously turned another shallow corner, and turned into a solid atrium of vast stalactites and formations in the rock, forming an open foyer of air. Gaping an entire wall on the fore side of the chamber was a penetration, giving vast way to the massive chaos and calamity of the cutter situation below, which they had already observed. The lip of the gap rose to prevent anything significant from coming into view, however, and so their take on the scene was obstructed.

Gregor instantly plopped to the ground, Ripred lowering himself more gently a second later. Simultaneously, without talk, they crawled across the long chamber and raised themselves slowly to peer over the lip.

If not for the changes in the rock surrounding their hole Gregor wouldn't have been able to tell the change in location with their last viewpoint. The massive fires seemed to rage in the same places, the same cutters still ran up and over each other, and the pure adjoined chaos coalesced in a seemingly designed way. Gregor bit back his previous disgust and instantly directed his gaze to the important and few differences, mostly taken up by the urge of observation against the walls, where Ripred predicted the cutters would hold Luxa.

Ripred seemed to do the same, but simultaneously he whispered across to Gregor, "This is insanity in corporeal form. Chaos exponentially coordinated."

Instead of replying to the crazy comment, Gregor instead jumped at a sudden realization and resisted the urge to point off into the distance, to a particular column branching off from the wall. "There. It looks like an alcove, big enough to hold anything they want."

"Yes, but what makes it different?"

This time, Gregor did point, but only barely, not daring to lift his arm over the lip of the cave. "There aren't cutters crawling around inside of it, implying there's something there they don't want to or don't need to disturb."

"As in our prisoner." Ripred sighed in thought, looking off deeper into the lair. "It would also confirm our assumption if that is true. But what about the other possibility? It can't completely be ruled out they're not keeping her closer, in the very middle of their assemblage."

"I doubt it," Gregor replied, gesturing off into the distant middle of the cavern, where a gigantic column, ridden with holes and gaps of every size, stretched easily from floor to high ceiling. "That's the only thing big enough to hold her safely, but they're all over that thing. In and out. Through and about. They're in too much action, she's not there."

Ripred gazed off at it for a few more moments, before turning his eyes back to their small, identified niche in the nearer wall in silent compliance. "We still can't rule that they're holding her in one of the others. This could, in all assumption, be a simple deception. It could be only a ruse designed to draw us out from her real hiding place. We've covered not even a fraction of this cavern's circumference, and it wouldn't be wise to jump at the first possible hiding place we find."

"But what if it's _right_?" Gregor argued quickly. "The chances are slim, but it's there, still. I'm not saying be barge right in after her, but we can at least investigate. It's not like we're out of options here."

Ripred scratched his chin and belly several times before replying over a length of time. "Even simple looking is risky. Discovery is constantly near us, and a simple act of subterfuge this may be. Even in exploring this possibility we might fall into a trap and find ourselves, not to mention therefore Luxa, out of luck."

Gregor took a moment for his own contemplation, readying his losing side of the argument for a comeback. "But what if it _is_ the right one? We can't just leave it without checking."

"But how do you expect us to _do_ that? It's down there, and we're up here, and between us and it are a horde of multi-legged creatures who wouldn't be happy to just let us have a look."

"I don't know," Gregor admitted to the question, resigning himself to a slump below the lip of view. Leaning against the cold stone, he thought for a moment of every possible outcome, trying to find some view that would work in his way. He was desperate, worried that they would pass over the one exact thing they were scouring the Lair for. Resigning himself to last resort, he puffed out, "I won't go past this. We have to make sure."

Ripred didn't respond, considering the new words and trying to listen to his own internal struggles. Gregor saw the same indecision sprouting inside of himself play out over the rat's eyes as heart waged war on reason within his mind. The fight lasted only a few moments, however, before Ripred decided to throw aside caution. "Oh, what the hell. Let's go kill ourselves."

Almost sighing vocally in relief, Gregor instead took a deep breath to grab his bearings. "Right. Okay. Uh... What do we do?" A feeling of uselessness came up in his soul: he had been so focused on making the plan a reality that he hadn't actually taken the time to come up with the plan itself.

But Ripred had, unconsciously. "What do we do?" the rat repeated. "Well, for starters, we get closer."

Several other side tunnels led off of the chamber, and Ripred crawled hastily over to the closest one heading off in their general direction. Bouncing up onto his legs at the mouth of it, he immediately led the way in, followed close behind by Gregor, who was already trying to think of ways to confirm or deny Luxa's actual presence in the alcove hiding place.

They didn't speak as Ripred led the way down the new passage. The rat was making every attempt to gauge their upper location in comparison to the alcove, mentally tracing their route and establishing it on a map with the cavern to their immediate right. Gregor only tried to stay on his feet, all sense of hearing lost to the loud booms of cutter steps. Breathing was no longer a sufficient supplier of echolocation, and Gregor was forced to begin omitting a series of clicks to guide his way.

All of a sudden, their tunnel shot in to a steep descent. The path changed so quickly and unexpectedly that Gregor slid a few feet in loose stone before he was able to right his stance. Ahead of him, Ripred had encountered less extravagant difficulties, and was already righting himself and gaining further bearings as he quickened his pace down the path. Gregor found his hand resting readily upon the scimitar at his side once more, ready for action at the slightest moment's notice.

Ahead of him, Ripred gradually pulled in for a stop. Gregor halted unquestioningly, letting the rat pause in silence. His companion slowly lowered himself to the ground, letting his ear graze the sharp stone of the dirt. For long moments, Ripred remained there, on the ground, his eyes closed, listening. Gregor didn't move, didn't click, afraid to disturb his friend's concentration.

Over a long period of time, Ripred slowed climbed back to his feet, contemplating as he rose. Turning to face Gregor, the rat took a deep breath. "Don't jump to conclusions with this. We've hit an extraordinary stroke of luck. This tunnel leads right over a huge chamber in that alcove, which now so happens to be below and to our right. Directly downward a few meters through this rock, there's a large, empty chamber... and in it I'm almost positive I can make out a different heartbeat. Not cutter. Different."

Gregor choked on his own words as he forced them out. "Her?"

"I don't know," Ripred replied, speaking through harsh teeth. "Gregor, don't assume. I said it was different. Not that I was sure it was human. It could be crawler, or gnawer, or spinner, or anything. It's just not cutter. That's all I know."

"But you can hear it?"

Ripred shrugged unenthusiastically, bowing his head. "I'm pretty sure of it. But it's really faint, and I'm finding it really unbelievable that we could strike solid on our first find. This is just too improbable."

"Screw probability," Gregor said, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. "This is it. She's down there. We've found her."

"But I'm not sure!" Ripred stressed, reaching out both arms and shaking Gregor harshly by the shoulders. "I'm not sure! There's no way I can be from this distance!"

"Is there any scent through the rock?"

"Hardly," Ripred replied quickly. "Barely through this density. It doesn't help much. Mostly dirt, filth, and scum. If I had to guess, I would associate it closest to human, but _I can't assume_!"

Gregor didn't reply, his mind racing with his heart. So many moments of pain had led up to this moment of possibility, and he wasn't about to waste opportunity and last hope on a clean miss. "This is all we've got, Ripred. We have to take this. We can't just move on and check every damn gap in the Lair----"

"You're not listening, Gregor! It could be her, but it might not be! It's just too----"

"No, it's not!" Gregor screamed abruptly, his ringing and echoing harshly up and down the tunnel. Not caring, he continued, "Look, this is the one chance we're ever going to have to get her back, because I'm telling you, it's her down there! And this chance won't ever come again. Take it or leave it, but she's not going to survive much longer down there."

Gregor cut off, heaving for musky breath as he found himself shouting in Ripred's face. Stepping back anxiously and wiping a spot of sweat from his face, second thoughts bounced into his brain posthumously, coming too late and too ignored to sink into Gregor's brain.

But Ripred remained silent, contemplating that which he rarely argued with, himself. Never was he truly the cautious one he was turning out to be on this trip. Gregor could see that it was only because there was actual care for Luxa behind his actions, and that pure emotion dictated his every watchful motion. Without echo, Gregor could easily hear the gears of quarrel grinding inside the rat's mind, fighting with himself and reason to throw off Gregor's determination and desperation.

Finally, Ripred answered. "I know you're right. But this is a humongous chance. Not only for her life, but also for ours. I hope you realize that, because if you _are_ wrong, then we are ruining any chance we have of getting her back. End of story."

Gregor nodded dismissively. He wasn't wrong. "Thank you, Ripred. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. She's still down there and we're still up here, with meters of stone between us."

Gregor crouched down to the floor below, clicking quickly to catch an outline of the rock. Sensing its obvious density and composition, he grimaced, realizing the sudden difficulty. "I don't suppose you could find us a way down through this labyrinth of hell, could you?" he asked uneasily.

"No. Which means we're out of luck here." Ripred sighed. "I'm beginning to think that maybe the only way through this goddamn place is by walking through the front door and fighting all these cutters one-by-one."

"Not necessarily," Gregor replied, mind contemplating through the conversation.

"Oh, please, enlighten me," Ripred stated sarcastically, holding up arms in a sign of compliance and skepticism. Looking up to him in pure blackness, Gregor shrugged in a strangely calm and measured fashion.

"If you can't kill the cutters, tear down the Lair," he offered quietly.


	14. 13: The Lair

**For to thanks, you all: ****shadowblade546****, ****Fitz Mark****, ****november21****, ****Castaway5****, stephanie, ****alec-alumina****, and ****EbonyClaw****.**

**Alright, we're here. I know it's short, my utmost apologies... just to vouch for myself, though, I updated only two days ago, and next chapter should probably be extra long for obvious reasons... Don't worry, I got a four-day weekend right now so maybe you'll get two more chapters within the next few days! Anyway, here is Chapter 13. Be on the edge of your chair. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Wait seventy-five years. Then it'll all be mine...**

**13**

**The Lair**

They went back to the splitting chamber, looking to find a tunnel taking them even closer downward to the alcove. If they were really lucky, one would actually lead right into it, though that would, in turn, pull out possibilities of running into cutters, which was an outcome in itself completely undesirable and to be avoided at almost all costs.

They tried three more tunnels, each splitting into its independence only slightly away from the first one. None of them went very far, however, without branching off to begin a steep flow into the distance, away from the alcove and their desired target. Whenever this happened, Gregor and Ripred were forced to return and look for a different route to their goal.

On the fourth one the path dropped quickly, bringing them far lower than any of the others. The road was rougher, harder to navigate, though, and so Ripred was wary of moving on in their search.

Curves took them quickly away from the rock that held the alcove, but Ripred persisted onward even so and Gregor did not protest. If the rat didn't think anything would come from the tunnel, he would not have wasted time by heading deeper into its maze.

And true to their hopes, around fifty meters along the path sloped deeper down still and curved to the right, leading them right back in the direction of their prize. Gregor held back his anticipation, still wishing for a direct route in but trying not to expect one. Rock shifted under foot and paw as steps were taken, and Gregor kept looking over his shoulder for no particular reason. He was sure they weren't being followed. It just felt strange to him to walk so far deep in enemy territory and not go undiscovered. Reflecting, he realized actually how easy the task had been, and erased the tiniest bit of pride that had temporarily grown in his mind.

They turned around a partial bend at the end, and abruptly the tunnel began to narrow, both horizontally and diagonally. After only ten steps Ripred was forced to pull up, ducking low to avoid a violent head bang against the ceiling of the stony corridor. Gregor looked down the extended passage, hoping for it to widen out again. Unfortunately, he saw that it only continued to grow smaller until all walls met in a solid, distant point of cold rock.

Leaning back and standing higher, Ripred swore under his breath. If not for awkward redundancy, Gregor would have joined him. Instead, however, he nudged past the rat and ducked into the gap, looking for any side-passage that would keep them going in the direction. He found none.

"Damn," Ripred said again behind him, striking three claws against the wall. "This is really close to what we need."

"Not really," Gregor replied. "This is close, but we need a direct tunnel in. After this not turning in our favor, I doubt we're going to find one." He rubbed a hand against his parched throat, intentionally ignoring the fire that burned there. He would have time for sustenance later, as long as he got through the pain now.

"Not necessarily," Ripred argued, pressing an ear to the right wall, the one closest to the alcove. "There were many other tunnels, and since cutters are so straight-focused and narrow-minded they might have simply discarded any tunnels they found useless----" Cutting off, Ripred frowned and pressed even closer to the wall, knocking three times with his hairy knuckles.

Gregor remained silent, thinking, curious. His mind wasn't fully paying attention, already on to formulating the next attempt at rescue. He didn't notice as Ripred's eyes lit up with renewed vigor.

"Maybe we don't need those, though," Ripred said aloud, more to himself than Gregor. He quickly switched sides, to his left ear, and repeated the knocking. Gregor stood up and took a step closer, curious and slightly exhilarated. He waited patiently for Ripred to finish whatever it was he was doing to find out exactly what it was.

And when Ripred turned, his face was perfectly concentrated, grim. He crouched down to the ground and looked up at Gregor with contemplating eyes, thoughts racing out in hardly rational statements. "There is an air pocket less than a meter of the way through that wall."

Gregor's eyes widened. "How can you tell? Smell? Are you sure?"

Ripred shook his head and bowed it low, erasing any sight the weakest light was providing to concentrate. "I can smell the water through the rock. Knowing it's there, I even got enough sound to hear it drip."

"The alcove?" Gregor asked, excitement blooming.

"I don't know," Ripred responded quickly, holding out hands in a restraining gesture. "I just said air. I can't even get a clue that it's the same as the alcove. It might just be a random collection trapped by a rockslide or seeping in through miniscule holes."

"But it is air." Gregor marched over and rapped the rock with his own hand, listening for any hollowness deep in the stone. He, of course, heard nothing, but he trusted Ripred's acute senses. "You said less than a meter. Can you dig that deep?"

"Slow down, boy!" Ripred urged. He caught Gregor by the arm and held him firmly in place. "If it _is_ the alcove, then we don't necessarily want to run right in. We don't know how many cutters they have over her, and I really doubt we can take out more than eight hundred combined. Believe me, I wouldn't put it past them to post over her more than a thousand."

"Ripred," Gregor replied, pleading. "Every moment we waste is another they could decide she's run her worth with them. We can't delay any longer. We waited for me to get down here, we waited to train, we waited to rest, we waited to come. I will not wait any longer."

"So we're throwing everything we have at this last small chance in the rock," Ripred growled, displease seeping from his voice. Gregor, despite the harsh, dark glare being projected heavily in this direction, nodded for response. Ripred sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat. Raising a paw to rip a tuft of fur from his neck, the giant rat muttered, "Then either we win stupidly, or we lose horrifically and valiantly."

"Or we find nothing but a simple meter long air pocket in the rock and just try again somewhere else."

Ripred ignored the hard reply and instead turned back to the rock. Both paws came up to feel the depressions in the stone, grazing here and there through the footstep vibrations. He closed his eyes, concentrating for a hold or map of the rock inside his head, looking for weak points or penetration abilities.

Watching him work, Gregor took several deep, calming breaths and laid a hasty hand on his blade for the billionth time of their short stay in the Lair. "_Can_ you dig through it?"

"I don't think so," Ripred barked. Keeping his eyes closed and his mouth straight, he added, "It's dense. All of this is granite, too hard for my claws to get through very far. Maybe a few inches, but otherwise we're out of luck here."

"There's no way?" Gregor moaned, sounding much like a child deprived of his favorite candy.

"No, I didn't say that." Ripred struck a spot above his head with a light but rigid wrist flick. "This is strangely conformed for granite. I might not be able to dig, but this stone is weakened in many places." He reached a foot above his head, never opening his eyes. "Here." He reached to his left and tapped a protrusion. "Here."

"You can tell that by rebounding echo?" Gregor speculated incredulously.

"More or less," Ripred supplied, giving neither a true or understandable answer. Groaning in frustration, the rat moved his hand in a slow motion over the wall until his paws met above his head. "The rock might break----and this is a _huge_ 'might'----might break if a can dig in a bit in every place that's weak, and then we strike the lower points to break foundation."

"That's it?"

"Well," Ripred continued, removing his paws from the wall and shaking them through the air, "it's not as easy as it sounds. Like I said, it's weak; but that weakness spreads upwards as well. The digging part will break down the fragile structure of this stuff, so that less breakage below will take it away. Even with that, though, I'm fearful that the stuff above will come down as well, which might not only ruin the chance of this little hole, but bring the cutters down on us, while we're trapped, to boot. Not to mention the physical danger that much falling rock presents to us."

Gregor nodded, surveying the wall himself with his more limited seeing skills. "So we either get lucky or we get killed."

"If it matters to you, our luck has held amazingly as of yet," Ripred said, stepping away quickly for a few fresher breaths of air. "I really don't think anybody else besides the two of us would've gotten as far as past Equinox. It's a damn good thing you're not claustrophobic."

"Yeah," Gregor agreed softly, running two fingers along a groove in the wall. "That'd be fun." He dropped his hand, breathing through his nose as he got quick bearings. "I feel anxious, too much so. It's getting out of hand."

"Understandable," Ripred replied evenly. "The love of your life is in captive territory, and you ultimately decide her fate by actions that could or could not result in her immediate death."

"That's one hell of a pep talk," Gregor said as he grimaced, stomach contorting into uncomfortable pinches. Thinking of unpleasant outcomes, he switched brain tack mid-thought. "What do we have to do to make this all happen?"

"Truthfully? Hope and pray and all of that. Let me dig softly, and then hack away at the base with as much ferocity as we can. I give about a seventy percent chance that the entire place will come reigning down on us somewhere between the surviving stage and the getting in to get her."

Gregor rubbed his eyes. "Is that all?"

"Also, if it does turn out to be only a tiny air pocket surrounded by rock, I'll kill you."

"Joy. May we begin?"

Ripred sighed and lumbered to the wall once more, tapping here and there. Closing his eyes again to search for weaknesses, he spoke as he worked. "In the event that somehow our luck holds and we actually make it through to the other side, _and_ it's the alcove, _and_ we're relatively unscathed, be prepared for combat. Cutters think differently, but they're not dumb enough to leave their most prized captive unguarded, even this deep inside their own territory."

Gregor nodded, silently letting his senses sharpen as Ripred froze where he stood against the wall.

"Ready?" the rat whispered.

Without waiting for a response he immediately dug a claw into the stone. Wrenching down into the earth, he quickly flung short pinches of dirt out of a fast-forming hole, having eyes only for his hasty job. Almost before Gregor had a chance to concentrate on the sudden motion Ripred had already lunged up to the next spot, clamping into stone and tearing out the earth.

Four holes were finished. Then seven. And finally, stepping away with surprisingly-heavy breath, Ripred turned to Gregor with twelve finished holes.

Speaking quickly, the rat hissed orders at the Overlander. "Listen to me. If she's there, get to her and grab her. Don't assess her condition, don't hesitate in the slightest. If there are cutters, take down any that attack but let my handle the bulk if you can. Don't take any action that'll increase her risk and----MOST IMPORTANTLY OF ALL..." He paused, staring off at the dark wall they were about to breach. Sighing, Ripred finished, "If I go down, don't stop for me. Get. Her. Out. At any cost. Understand?

Gregor was barely comprehending the words, but he nodded, preparing for the greatest and most dangerous plunge he would ever take in his life so far. With a steadier hand than he expected to possess, he slid the scimitar from its sheath and held it softly by his side.

Ripred turned back to the wall once he received compliance, and immediately leaped at the base, growling over his shoulder, "Hack at it!"

Gregor jumped after him, not hesitating as he tore at the stone with his scimitar. The blade never shivered once, never quivered or chipped as it sliced into the rock as clean as butter. Chunks never flew, only clean lines being cut by the sword and claws, holding strong against the stone. Gregor attacked the rock like he would an enemy, striking at vital points and holding back for future blows. Every time a blow fell the wall became weaker, he could see, and it was only a short matter of time before the entire thing came down.

And then, all at once, a solid crack of stone split itself into and through the air, so loud it jarred Gregor's eardrums, out and up and rebounding off of everything and anything that got in its path, as the massive Lair broke upon its foundation.

Gregor wrenched his blade to a stop in mid-swing, causing it to screech haltingly in a single cut of strength. He froze, waiting for the rock to crumble uncontrollably. But it didn't. And the cracking stopped.

He didn't move. He didn't dare. One move could bring everything down and them with it. Slowly, he raised his head to look Ripred in the eyes, in a strange way both for comfort and for permission. Staring eye-to-eye in the lightest dark either had ever experienced in their life, Ripred raised his chin, lowered it once, and brought it back up.

Gregor took a deep breath, getting a grip on his sword. With a shaking voice, he looked up at his friend, mentor, and comrade-in-arms, and said, "See you in Hell."

With a roar of exertion, he hauled the scimitar out of its hold, bringing half of the wall with it. But as stone showered over and around his head, Gregor wasn't even paying attention.

He was already moving through the opening he had made, on into the Lair, on after Luxa.


	15. 14: Cutting the Lair

**Thanks to all my reviewers, be you ****Castaway5****, Unnamed17, ****shadowblade546****, stephanie, november21, jackstheman9, dji435, and Fitz Mark.**

**Alright, I did this one really fast, not because I had to, just because I couldn't stop writing it until it was done. If it's horible, I apologize, and don't hesitate to tell me so if that's your opinion, too... Oh, dear. What's going to happen? Go find out. Chapter 14 is now here. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Would I really waste my time if I did?**

**14**

**Cutting the Lair**

A chunk of rock hit Gregor's right shoulder hard, tearing into his skin and bouncing off jarringly. He didn't even feel it, eyes and ears far beyond the dust, searching through the darkness to identify what was through the gap he had made.

As his sword had had the final cut it had become pinched between two massive slabs he had sidestepped in the slide. The sword had been less fortunate than he, however: At the top, a half foot of the blade snapped off and showered away with the rock, leaving his scimitar significantly shortened.

Despite that, however, Gregor didn't hesitate. They had the element of surprise on their side, and they had to use it while they did. A shortened weapon was still a weapon, and he needed a weapon more than anything else at the moment.

The upper shelves of rock had held during the excavation, and so, just as Ripred had hoped, they didn't come showering down on their heads as the two companions leaped through the gap. The cloud of dust kicked up by the debris was dense, however, and even with echo on his side it took Gregor a long moment to catch his bearings and observe.

By his ears he found with a jolt of excitement that their air pocket was, in fact, a wide tunnel, leading in both directions parallel to the tunnel they themselves had utilized before making their explosive entrance. Before a half-second had elapsed, Gregor had sent clicks down both directions and judged the one to his left to be short and insignificant. He was already moving at a careful jog down the right passage by the time Ripred had concluded his own assessment.

The path was smooth under their feet----far _too_ smooth. They both independently took it as a clue that this section of their spinning trails was artificially adapted. That meant that there were cutters near. And that there was no more room for error.

Within the first several meters Gregor became perturbed as he noticed the difference in sound for the cutter steps rebounding in the walls around them. The synchronized message that had been playing solemnly before had dissolved into chaos, leaving nothing behind except cosmic disarray. It was nothing but a solid storm hitting the rocks now, and Gregor couldn't make anything out of the crashing as every single cutter slammed around confusedly, desperately trying to find order in the consuming chaos.

Just as Gregor was beginning to wonder where they were, the two comrades rounded a quick bend and ran straight into a trio of cutters.

Gregor started, but Ripred, already in a frenzy, leaped right in and bloodily decapitated the first two easily. Dodging the heads of its two defeated companions, the third cutter tried to make a retreat at the same time as it lashed out with its pinchers. Ripred snarled loudly as a claw raked through air instead of flesh, and rushed after his prey.

During the skirmish, from ahead five more adversaries skidded down a higher tunnel chute into the narrow frame. Leaping ahead with a brandished scimitar, Gregor hacked through a leg and blocked the blow of the same cutter, diverting only two while another three went to assist their fellow with Ripred. Not able to spare a glance at the rat's progress, Gregor ducked beneath a slash and sliced into one of his assailants. Loosing his footing, he tripped and slipped to the ground, dragging the dying cutter's body with them on the jagged edge of his broken scimitar.

He hit the ground hard, instantly rolling over and dislodging his blade from the corpse. Sliding to his knees, he was only barely able to block the stabbing pinchers of the second cutter, who leaped furiously over the body of the first to fight.

Deflecting the cutter and throwing it off-balance, Gregor rammed his way back to his feet and took a backhanded swing at the creature's back as it rushed out of reach. Only grazing and bouncing off of the cutter's shell, the sword swung vastly out of Gregor's control, clattering out of his hand and up against the wall. As it did so the cutter leaped back at him, sensing opportunity for a killing blow.

Gregor saw the cutter leap, and watched as the gleaming pinchers closed in on his body For a fraction of a second, he imagined the red blades sinking into his flesh, blood pooling out and away from his lifeless body. As the same time, though, he saw Luxa, alone and broken, beneath the cutters, where, if he perished, she would live forever more, far away from anyone who could ever protect her…

Spurred by instant fury, his rage kicked in. Spinning faster than he thought was possible, he caught the pinchers in midair with both hands and twisted sideways. Cart wheeling nearly out of control, he slammed the cutter's body with all of his strength into the wall, where it crashed and crumpled to the floor. Leaving it down, he kicked it hard once to be assured of its lifelessness before he stooped to retrieve his broken blade and rounded back to assist Ripred.

Not that the giant rat needed it.

By the time Gregor had regained his height he saw an array of claws slash violently through the last living cutter in the chamber, raking blood across the ground as the rat flung his kill left and right in termination. His breath only slightly lost, Ripred looked up to Gregor and, once he had assessed the human's living condition, immediately took off back down the tunnel. Gregor took a quick last look behind him and then rushed at the rat's heels.

They bypassed the tube-like passage the reinforcement five had arrived in, as it went up and not out like they needed. Looking up through it as they rushed past, Gregor caught a distant glimpse of light at the distant mouth of the other side. With no time to collapse it in delay, he could do nothing but pray that any adversaries from that direction would not be able to arrive with the time to assist.

"Where would they be keeping her?" Gregor screamed up at Ripred from behind. Silence was no longer useful, since their secret presence was obviously compromised.

Before he could give an answer, Ripred screeched to a halt at a bend just as a fresh batch of cutters rounded it. Swinging out claws with incredible reflex, red flesh and exoskeleton went flying with force as body after body fell unknowingly against the stone. Before they could even register the fight cutters began to pile up dead in an unlikely heap. Without Gregor even assisting Ripred ripped his way through a dozen, so quickly that Gregor's sword was hardly raised above his head before the short convoy was gone.

He was lowering the weapon when Ripred rounded the corner himself. Looking down the passage with dim eyes and ears, he raised his claws again and annoyingly growled, "Nope, we're not done yet!"

Gregor skipped to his side, just in time to drive his blade through a harsh, red jumping body. Swinging the light corpse around to his back, he used inertia to slide the cutter off and swung back with even more force to send two more slamming into oblivion on the wall. Beside him, Ripred was cutting them down like… ants. Beneath his claws nothing stood for long, and only once when four took him from the side at once did he stumble off balance. Shooting into the frenzy, Gregor hacked off all four of their heads in one swipe and jumped at five more at the same time.

The short battle was quick, and double raging easily took down the foes. By the time the last one had been swiped aside, though, Gregor was sweating heavily and a deep cut had appeared on his forearm. Ignoring the pain and growling inwardly, he tossed his sword into the air. Shrugging out of his overcoat and letting it drop to the ground he caught the blade again and quickly renewed the trek up the passage.

On the right as they passed two more cutters rushed out of a very narrow die corridor. Ripred skewered one in stride and trampled the second, keeping pace all the same.

A lone one jumped out from a hole directly in the roof. Gregor ducked the fierce pinchers and let Ripred take it down as well, eyes scanning the walls frantically as they went. Over his shoulder, he yelled, "How the hell were you able to discern a single heartbeat in all of this?"

From out of the shadows three more cutters leaped, cutting their conversation short. Gregor dodged the first two and engaged the third. As he went, he distinctly heard Ripred's crackling reply. "Skill!"

Focusing back on his fight, he tried to end it quickly by swinging directly at the creature's body. In a remarkable display of strength and intelligence, the cutter caught the blade in a fierce screech between both of its pinchers. Reeling to the left, it threw Gregor by the hilt of his sword off to the side and out of control.

Regaining control quickly, he used a strong foot to ricochet off the wall and come back at the attacker in midair. Backing off smartly, the cutter let him swing swiftly at midair. Hearing Ripred destroy his enemies easily to the side, Gregor angrily dashed at his single rival.

Once more, the cutter showed intelligence by dodging to the side instead of farther back. Under a normal circumstance the move would have been brilliant. Against a rager whose love was being kept captive, however, it was only delaying the inevitable. Flipping to the side with the creature, Gregor cut the creature's body cleanly in half down the middle, skidding through the mess and running off of the wall to regain his steady footing as he rejoined the elsewhere reality.

True to suspicion, Ripred had already dealt evenly with his two (assorted pieces of their bodies were lying to his left, front, and above). The rat was already heading off of another set of eight reinforcements. He was dealing easily, but even still, Gregor began to step forward in assistance.

Before he could close four steps, however, Ripred locked eyes with him for a split second and screamed, "No!" Hacking aside a cutter, he turned fully to face Gregor while dealing blows behind his back with all four limbs respectively. "The chamber widens out ahead! I'll hold 'em off! Go and look for a separate, removed cell area! I'll follow when I can!"

Gregor stamped out his motion and turned without hesitation. Long gone was his patience and concern. Only pausing to finish a less skilled cutter who had somehow managed to escape Ripred's claws, he rushed immediately onward in the direction of their mission, heading darting left and right again for orientation as light began to filter more fully into the alcove from unknown sources.

He was so enveloped in his observation he nearly missed a creeping cutter sneaking up from behind. Leaping to escape low pinchers, he swung around in an arc and dug his sword into the creature's skull, tripping as he did so. Recovering, he hit his back under control and kicked the dead body over his head as he somersaulted backwards once more onto his feet. Only half-paying attention to the fight, he dismissed the remaining cutters' heads with two swipes of his sword, and then rushed back to the tunnel's assessment.

True to Ripred's word, the tunnel widened out into a small cavern, where even more tunnels spread off. Contrary to belief, though, by quick echo Gregor discovered that none were large enough to hold a creature without fault, and that to closer inspection not one of them even held anything for as far as his rebounding clicks and breath could reach.

Resisting the impulse to swear, he closed his mind to outside influence, only listening for anything and readying his sword in case an attack appeared. They had gotten so far. Into the Lair. Into the alcove. Now all he had to do was find her, because he was _positive_ she was there somewhere.

He closed out everything. The stomping, the distant echoes of Ripred's continued fight, the rapid beating of his own dead heart. He had ears only for the soft pattering claws of a nearing cutter, or, as he hoped to the extent of all of his mind, the faintest heartbeat of the softest soul of the only person he would ever come miles underground to see and save…

As it so happened, he heard both.

Leaping up, he turned quickly to intercept the cutter entourage moving to intercept _him_. Before they could even assess their situation, he had sliced cleanly through three of them and was in the process and running his blade through another. With slight dismay, Gregor acknowledged their number as in the dozens, out of reach of his previous abilities. He ignored his senses and mind telling him to logically retreat, though, and pushed forward quickly, hacking through anything solid that he could.

Although the cutters now attacking seemed to be more skilled than those he had previously faced Gregor found that his sword found flesh much more often. At first he believed it was because he had somehow gained farther skill and was not nearly as overcome as he had been before. After only a few seconds of frantic struggling, he realized that the change was something far less practical and much more painful: the cutters were dealing him the same blows as before, only under his rager sense he was letting them pass through as sacrifice for his own killing blows. As a result, cuts deep and shallow began to appear all across his arms and torso, dripping red blood and sending dismissed messages of pain through his adrenaline-spiked nervous system.

By the time he had counted thirty dead on the ground only three more remained and his arms were cut up something horrible. He felt no pain, but as a result of too much fighting in too short of a life and a long many years on his school's track team in a happier age he knew that soreness and agony would come later. If he was still living later.

Cutting through legs with a low blade, he crippled all three adversaries in their steps and turned away cruelly, leaving them to suffer until death for what they took from him. The blood seeping from his arms was payment for that debt, and it was running like a river.

His attention finally turned away from the fighting, Gregor quickly ran up a short row of cutter-made tunnels leading off the alcove chamber, finally selecting the one from which he had distantly heard Luxa's heartbeat. In the back of his mind, he made note of the scuttling in the ceiling high above and in the chambers on the opposite side of the alcove, indicating in both cases the imminent arrival of much-needed reinforcements.

The sound had been very, very distant. Under normal circumstances, Gregor would have been incredibly amazed that he heard the sound at all. Right now he didn't have time to be incredibly amazed, and so he could only take the discovery in stride and hurry to take advantage of it.

He ran up the tunnel as it sloped only slightly upward. Every few meters even _more_ tunnels split off, so that if he had been going by sight alone he would have been hopelessly lost in the massive labyrinth. He wondered in passing whether the passages even led to anywhere, or were only there for the purpose of confusion in a case such as the current one.

He was so preoccupied with finding his way around that he was barely able to defend himself from a sudden flurry attack from his left. A single cutter, attacking from the mouth of one of the smaller break off tunnels, lunged out at him and nearly caught him dead center in the face with both pinchers. Only by leaning drastically back (in the back of his mind, Gregor thought "do the matrix") was he able to avoid the attack, and even as the cutter flew out of control to crash into the adjacent wall Gregor felt two muscles pull in his back and his knees slammed jarringly into the ground. Groaning in instant pain, he forced himself to roll into a mounting position, climbing painfully to his feet as the cutter came back for another rout of attack.

He had evidently taken more damage than his opponent, for he found himself struggling, even through his raging ability, to swing his blade up to block the raining blows of the cutter. Every deflection came at the last second and always mere inches from his skin. He was too busy defending himself through physical pain to bother an attempt at an offensive stand.

The small battle raged only seconds, but by the time five had passed Gregor began to fear that he had met his sudden match. The cutter, equally, believed it had turned to the advantage, for it came with renewed strokes and invigorated thrusts, causing him to block with even less room for mistake.

Then the cutter abruptly feinted to his left, and with a quick wrap-around pincher strike Gregor was tripped up. Landing hard on his back and rolling to escape the quick snaps, Gregor lost the grip on his sword and it slid from his hand.

Crying in anguish and leaping to a standstill, he crawled around only to see the cutter rear up in victory, preparing to thrust pinchers directly into his head for a quick and subtle triumph----

At the last second claws ripped through the cutter's head, sending shards and shreds of flesh and brain flying everywhere. Not even pausing to wait for him, Ripred growled loudly in impatience and dropped Gregor's sword at his side, already moving past him and down the side passage. Heart beating in disbelief at how close he had been to failure, Gregor scrambled to his feet and seized up his sword, scurrying after Ripred with quick feet.

The light was fading again, but Gregor could see ahead that the tunnel at last spread out into another chamber. Differing from the others, however, this one had only one side tunnel leading off of it----the one he was positive contained the one he loved, the one taken from so many people for no just reason.

But instead of charging instantly down it, Ripred abruptly pulled up short. Leaping to the side to avoid collision, Gregor passed him a few steps, skidding still as he regarded Ripred with incredulous eyes. "What are you waiting for?" he shouted, surprised and anxious at the same time. It took every force of his rager side, free will, and conscious state of logic to keep him from running down the tunnel to where she was being held.

"They're coming," Ripred said simply, perfectly still and listening.

Stretching his ears himself, Gregor heard it as well: the sound of cutters running frantically down a tunnel very close to their current location. This time, however, he didn't hear dozens; he heard _hundreds_. Looking quickly back down the passage they had just traversed, he saw, in the distance, the beginnings of a line of cutters which didn't stop for as far as he could see.

"Oh, Hell." He amazed himself by sounding more annoyed than troubled. "Here we go."

"No," Ripred said suddenly, interrupting Gregor's battle preparation. Turning to face the human, he said, "We're close. I have a better chance than you against them, and we must not fail. At any cost." He paused, during which he took several deep breaths and the cutters got a little closer. "Go. Get her. I'll hold them off."

Gregor shook his head, eyes wider than he had previously imagined they could go. "There must be a thousand out there. Not even _you_ can take down that many. That's suicide, Ripred. Don't try it."

"I don't have to kill them all," Ripred replied, a devilish grin appearing on his rat face. "Just hold them off until we're able to get her out. So, instead of killing a thousand… oh, I would say all it takes is a good few hundred."

Gregor's mind wanted him to argue, but his heart wanted him to run and do exactly what Ripred bid him to do. He was caught between duty and struggling pain, and for a solid, long moment he was caught horribly in indecision. Thinking fast, running out of time as the cutter backup came closer, he finally looked straight up at Ripred, raising a finger to wag pointedly as he spoke. "Fine. But on one condition. Do. Not. Die. Got it?"

Ripred's grin only grew wider. "Oh, boy, I promise you of that." Without waiting for a response or a confirmation, Ripred stepped quickly around Gregor, placing himself between the cutters and the path to Luxa. Eyes clouding over with the anger of years, the grin disappeared gradually from his face. "Go."

For another long moment, Gregor was strongly tempted to stay and argue for more. But, as the moment stretched to two he realized he could waste no more time, and grudgingly turned away and sprinted at full speed into the tunnel, towards Luxa, towards his heart.

As he hit the passage's mouth, he heard a harsh growl and flailing claws from behind.

* * *

For so long, the only light Luxa had seen was the damned torch they kept "for her convenience" hanging over the hole that led away from her harsh and rocky prison. She hated it with all of her mind, because it only shed despair and agony on everything around her, including herself and her meager cell that didn't even qualify as an area.

She didn't know how she got there. She didn't remember much at all since they took her. Weak thoughts of waking up bouncing over rocky terrain on the back of an ugly beast. Snatches of being thrown between the creatures as they transported her to the meager hellhole she found herself in now. Everything along the lines of those, everything she really didn't want to remember.

She wanted to get away, but for some reason she was always too weak to think of why or how. They fed her, although never enough and the water they supplied tasted worse than the dirt she often pressed to her tongue for sustenance. She imagined that the reason for their small supply of food to her was only because, as cutters, they weren't used to housing or holding captive humans, not because they wanted to weaken her. She wasn't sure how they thought, but regardless she really didn't care and she hated them with all her might.

Her only weak escape was dreaming, and when she did that it was never grand. When she was awake and dreary she forced herself to wish that Viceroy Arthur or Ripred could come and save her. When she was asleep, it was _him_ she wished would come. _He_ who would take her far away. To safety. And then she woke up, and there was no change, she was still in her empty prison, and he wasn't there. And that hurt more than the pain of being trapped.

In truth, it was only the thoughts of him that gave her will to keep going----mainly the fact that she wanted to believe that he would fall to bits if she died. She didn't know how he felt now. It had been five years. In all likelihood, he had done his best to forget she existed, most likely found another girl and moved on with his life. Just as she had failingly tried to do with her own.

In five years she had tried to think of anything but him, and for the most part she had been successful. But now, in a rock stronghold where she would not escape, she could do nothing but think of him, and it all tortured her.

She wondered where he was, whether he was in Virginia of the Overland or somewhere else. She had little imagination, which was a great fact she resented, and so she could really know nothing about him that he didn't tell her himself, and that was all buried behind a mind wall of perpetual impenetrableness, locked away to where she would never be able to find it. What she would allow herself to think was little, mostly just trying to remember his face, his smile, the warm feeling of his arms around her, pulling her to him, closer, deeper. The happiness she had felt with him, something she already knew she would never receive from Arthur.

As much as she wished otherwise, her consort was only for convenience between their peoples. She didn't love Arthur, not like she wished she could, not like she knew she had the ability to. She wondered why she didn't, even while he was smart, and strong, and handsome, and kind. All the same, he just wasn't right. He just wasn't Gregor.

That was how day after day went in her prison. Regret, dismal agony, hopeless despair. Everything was merged into one giant emotion of pain, because she believed that he was far away, and that he would never come back.

But maybe not today.

They only posted one guard on her at any time, because she was so weak any escape attempt would barely be an actual effort. They rarely switched between persons. She couldn't keep track of time, but she imagined it happened probably about once a day. Whoever it was always stood at the entrance to the cave, watching her nonstop in anything she did. Not that that was much, of course.

They were so still she barely noticed they were there; only when she moved did they, and then it was usually only a minimal shift of the head to survey her better. She got used to the enormous and empty sensation that she was always alone. Completely and utterly.

But today had been different than the others.

There had been a loud crack that resounded across everything she could hear from her cell, which was admittedly little. In a place so quiet the frequency of the noise hurt her ears, but she took the agony as another force of her dismal nature, and only hoped it wouldn't come again. She only wondered what had caused it in passing, not expecting anything to come from it that mattered to her. It was probably just cutters removing rock from someplace it wasn't supposed to be, she reasoned.

Other noises had followed, however. Strange, distant screams and cries. Not all of them cutter, either. She didn't know what to expect. Not much. Mostly she just ignored them, hoping slightly in passing that whatever it was might come and accidentally finish her off.

The guard never moved, never took its eyes off of her, not once out of the whole ordeal. She didn't care. She wasn't going anywhere.

But then the sounds got closer. And closer. And now they were just outside wherever she was being held. Her dim curiosity began to spike, become active as it wondered what was really occurring outside.

And then the guard turned around, away from her, and opened pinchers wide in ferocity. Two seconds later a horrible slicing sound filled the air, and the head of her previous watchman rolled off of its body and away, far into the distant corner.

She watched it go. Couldn't believe it. What was happening?

So, with a weakened tilt of the head, she looked up, towards the head of the passage out, towards where her guard had just been guarding her. What she saw confused her even more than it helped answer her questions.

A man stood in the doorway. He was tall, probably close if not at to six feet. His hair was midway between long and short, sweaty and splayed all around his head. The grim and weakly grown stubble covered his face, and on the right side of his neck two long, red scars ran from the bases of his ear to where they disappeared into his black shirt. In both of his hands he clutched what looked to have once been a scimitar. Three quarters up the length of the blade had snapped off, leaving a jagged edge.

Overall, he looked strong and intimidating. But there was something else about him. The way he stood, hunched and ready. A way that was familiar. A way that she had taken close care to memorize perfectly.

In her rapidly weakened state, Luxa gasped. "Gregor?" she whispered croakily.

Eyes and mouth widened intensely in dismay, the man crossed the stone cell in three strides, crouching down instantly at her side where she laid against the wall. Sliding the sword quickly into a sheath at his side, he gently wrapped his arms around her waist, looking deep into her gaze. "Are you alright?"

In shock, she reached up with a frail arm and touched his cheek, disbelievingly shaking her head. "Gregor?" she repeated.

He nodded, voice breaking as he swallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, it's me. It's me, Luxa."

It couldn't be. This couldn't be real. She was hallucinating. She had heard, in ancient tales, of people going insane in captivity. Seeing things, illusions that weren't and shouldn't be there. That must have been what was happening here. He wasn't there. She was dreaming awake. That explained everything.

It hurt. He hadn't come. He wasn't there. It was all a dream. But for a moment, she didn't care. Because it _was_ him.

Slowly, at first, softly, then more loudly and croakily, she began to laugh. It grew and grew and finally she found herself just staring into his eyes and smiling, knowing that she was either very close to death or finally in his arms again. She didn't care that it was probably both. It was just here, her with him, as it all was supposed to be.

She lowered her head, still cracking with laughter, onto his shoulder, where it lay as her thoughts drifted into blackness. Everything was alright now. Whether in this world or the next, she was with him. She would just have to wait and see which one it was. She could do that. She had waited five years, she could wait a bit longer. It was all fine. Peaceful.

She was so content she didn't notice when he leaned down and lifted her lightly up and away.


	16. 15: The Lair's Cut

**Thank you for all of you who feel the need to lie to me about how good this is: november21, Castaway5, stephanie, shadowblade546, pomplamouse, and Sum Vi3t Kid.**

**Something funny I've just discovered: as of now, this fan fiction is longer than UC book #1, ****Gregor the Overlander****, and Seraphania's ****The Prophecy of Flight**** is nearly twice as long. Fun facts... Off and away. There they go. Go after them. Don't be afraid of Chapter 15. Just be prepared for the future. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I need a life. But no, I don't own this.**

**15**

**The Lair's Cut**

As he leaped away from the grimy mud hole that had been Luxa's prison, Gregor was disturbed to feel how light she felt. Practically weightless, actually. He didn't have time to dwell on the fact. He could only hope it was because of a light build or his increased muscle as opposed to rabid starvation.

He transcended the path back in to the tunnel, but the sight that met him there nearly persuaded to turn tail and sprint in the opposite direction again. Cutters were leaping upon Ripred by the dozens, leaping onto and over each other in their frenzy of attack. Somehow, through some unspoken pocket of will, the giant rat was still remarkably holding the off, slicing them away left and right with massive swipes of his claws. Carcass after carcass of bloody red exoskeleton fell lifeless to the ground, but even as so many fell even more came on to renew the attack, with no obvious signs of stopping.

Gregor made the mistake of standing still for a period. The moment he came into sensory range the cutters began to emit a sort of crying sound, and almost as one they all abruptly began to make for him.

Swearing loudly, he shifted Luxa's entire weight to his right arm, where he was surprised to find hardly an effort in carrying her. Ignoring the fact for the moment being, he unsheathed his shattered scimitar in a sheering scream of metal, swinging it once for emphasis on either side of his body as he prepared to defend them both against the imminent onslaught.

But most of the cutters never got there.

As they rushed past Ripred, the giant rat slashed frantically to prevent them passage. In doing so, he left open windows for their fellows to cut into his own body, but the slices never went deep and he still went on to keep Gregor with Luxa in relative safety.

One broke through, kicking aside a claw that allowed another entry as well. They rushed at Gregor, but their skills were almost playful in comparison. Gregor clubbed one aside while he stabbed and decapitated the other. Kicking aside his dead opponent, he proceeded to slice all six major limb appendages from the creature's body before finishing it off.

"Oi!" Gregor shouted over the din of heated combat to Ripred. "I think it's time we make a calm exit from the premises!"

Battling four cutters trying to climb over him while swinging paws rapidly at six more coming from afore, Ripred screamed out a rabid chuckle and called back, "But I haven't even gotten a hundred yet!"

Swiping aside a few penetrating stragglers, Gregor watched claws rip through the heads and thoraxes of cutters by the dozens and winced inwardly. Grimacing only facially on appearance, he yelled in reply, "Learn to count! You must be at half a thousand by now!"

Clarifying points, Ripred did a spin move and sent somewhere between eight and thirty-three of the creatures flying lethally into the walls. Gregor, regarding the carnage with a raised eyebrow, quickly added, "Um, not to be a pain... but, we kinda need to get outta here, yeah?"

"Fine, you can fight the million cutters, I'll carry the queen," Ripred growled out, while ravaging through the abdomen of a close call to his throat. Gnashing through targets without even looking, he continued sarcastically, "I mean, it's not like this is _hard_... maybe a little ways, but..." He used a double paw cut on a leaping cutter and grunted in exertion. "Deal with it. This is a necessary sacrifice. Woops----"

Five cutters got through the defense. Ripred swung after them with a last strike but missed by feet, and the adversaries charged on towards Gregor and Luxa. Groaning in annoyance, Gregor quickly and carefully transferred Luxa to the ground. Taking a step so that he was straddling her unconscious form in a defensive position, he swung his sword fiercely around in anticipation, bluffing on the intentions of the cutters.

As he had hoped, all five of them ignored Luxa, and leaped right at him. By stupidity on their part of the attack, Gregor managed to skewer three of them on the jagged end of his blade in a single stab. Jumping back and sliding the dead ants off of his sword, he swung it once to take out the first and again for the second. The first one hit home, but the second one hit only air.

Swinging around to end the fight with the final cutter, Gregor was stunned for a moment to find the creature missing. Leaping around in intense anxiety and suspicion, he saw the cutter. It was standing over Luxa, its fight abandoned, its pinchers clacking in something Gregor would define as indecision.

Heart stopping in fear, Gregor flung his sword with a rager's precision. It sank deep into the cutter's side, missing Luxa completely and intentionally. Giving off an alien, high-pitched shriek of agony, it keeled over and slowly relinquished its life in the dirt.

Gregor sprinted over to pick up Luxa again, wrenching his sword from the cutter's body as he went. Standing up with effort, he looked over to Ripred, bleeding and growling but still fighting strong. In a scratchy voice he bellowed out, "Now would be a _very_ good time to leave, Ripred!"

"Agreed," the rat hissed back, flipping a cutter into the wall and sending three more heads flying. "But, as you can see, our escape route has been blocked! Please locate another one!"

"That's the only way out!" Gregor yelled back, sinking his blade mercifully into a lethally wounded beast.

"Well, then, make another!" A swamp of blood flew abruptly into the air, but Gregor couldn't tell whether it was cutter or rat.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Gregor screamed in angry retort, swinging left and right quickly to take care of two more. "This is rock, for heaven's sake! I have half a sword and fingernails; how deep do you think I'll get?"

"Adapt!" Ripred half-roared and groaned, taking a whack from something in the stomach and nearly falling over as a result. Doing a sort of side-flip in midair that completely defied his massive size and weight, he somehow made it back onto his hind paws and kept swinging at his enemies.

Left with little options and almost no idea of a solution, Gregor rushed at the nearest wall. Setting Luxa down gently next to it, he cut down an ant behind him and turned to the stone with utterly no idea of any answer. He couldn't make a tunnel. There was no way he would be able to cut deep enough before they were overcome or his blade completely shattered.

Moving on anxiety alone, Gregor raised the scimitar and, from the side of the wall, swung heatedly downwards. The sword cut through the rock, as a matter of fact, shearing through from a place a foot above Gregor's head all the way down to the base of the wall. Stumbling back in amazement, Gregor watched slowly as the slab fell away and to the floor.

Keeping a weary eye on the losing battle, he crouched down to examine his make. It was thin, no more than an inch-an-a-half at its thickest point, near the very center. It formed a sort of rough oval, around six or seven feet tall at top and bottom, stretching four across in the middle. Trying to lift it, Gregor found that while it was difficult he could do it with one arm only. Thin and light, but rubbing his fingers across it he felt its obvious strength. Raising his eyes to look at the scene ahead, he tried to think of any practical use for anything this unknown, running out of time as he considered the problem.

And, just as quickly as last resort appeared, the dumbest but most possible way of escape popped into Gregor's mind, and he grudgingly sheathed his sword.

Jumping back to Luxa, he quickly shoveled her onto his back, piggyback style, and rushed back to heave the slab upright. Running his hands up both sides, he quickly found sturdy handholds at approximately the same height as each other. Straining to lift the rock piece fully into the air, Gregor gasped and turned so that he could see Ripred. "Ripred! Ever heard of something called the Gauntlet?"

"What?" the rat shouted back, ripping aside seven and two cutters with swings to the left and right. "Like a glove gauntlet?"

"No!" Gregor responded, quieting as he took a deep breath. "A training exercise, in a sport called football... Move!"

Even as Ripred turned in confusion to see what Gregor was up to the Overlander was already charging forward. Roaring in effort and holding the slab strong ahead of him, he held his breath as it came closer to the line of cutters, who tried too late to disperse as they realized what was about to happen.

The rock hit the line jarringly, enough to throw him off balance, but cutters went streaming off their legs left and right, and Gregor stayed on his feet through stumbles. Righting himself and renewing the charge, he pressed forward, sending them left, right, and down to be trampled by his feet as they all hit the slab.

Before he had time even check where it was he hit the tunnel by pure instinct, still shooting the cutters in all which directions. Behind him, awed by the pure display of brutality, Ripred cut down the last few living devils and rushed down the tunnel after him, hopping around and over any beasts that still held essence.

Only a few meters down the tunnel using his technique Gregor's arms felt like jello, nearly dropping the slab every time it ran into a cutter. As he ran, he felt the fingers curling around the slab being ravaged by whatever was hitting the rock on the opposite side. The skin was being torn away and the tissue beneath exposed, but still Gregor held on, holding in his cries of pain for a time when he could afford to be distracted.

Astoundingly abruptly, the slamming of cutter bodies against the stone ceased, and Gregor moaned in relief that his method had worked and also that he had survived the effort. His arms felt like lead, and his head felt very light, but he could adapt to those much easier than others.

The tunnel ended, and Gregor found himself and Ripred sprinting off into the alcove's main chamber. Shoving off the rock, it clambered to the ground where it shattered into pieces, having been sufficiently weakened by the bombardment of cutter bodies. It didn't matter anymore. The slab had served its purpose, and to full extent.

Veering off to right, Gregor hauled the scimitar from its hold while he steadied himself against the ground. Leaping behind Ripred, who had already taken the lead again, he swung Luxa around to once more cradle in his arms, carefully away from his sword. Silently, he thanked everything that she had managed to remain on his back throughout his insane idea of escape.

But he also knew that they were nowhere close to getting out, yet. The batch they had just eradicated was only the first wave of reinforcements, and even now he could distantly hear the poundings of an enemy count of thousands.

Ripred took up a wide passage, the one Gregor assumed was their entering way but wasn't positive of. Following close behind, he used echo to track behind them instead of sparing a precious glance. The alcove was empty, for now.

Before he could even register their presence ahead, Ripred had destroyed four more cutters, basically slicing what he could reach and trampling what he couldn't. The method appeared effective, with all four dead bodies ending on the hard ground. Gregor hopped over them as he went, nearly missing a steep right turn in the passage. Skidding nearly to his knees, he climbed up again and rushed after the rat again.

From behind, the massive sounds of cutter steps were gradually intensifying. If only they could make it back to the passage they had created, Gregor knew, then they might actually stand a chance of escaping without serious deficit. Their only advantage, at the moment, was that the cutters didn't yet know how they had entered the Lair, and, of course, the valuable person Gregor carried gently in his arms.

They rushed past the corpses of their earlier kills, and vague memory of the chamber returned to Gregor. He was still only following, but the bearings in relation to the rest of the Lair gave him a small amount of comfort. A very small amount.

The rescuers rounded a second bend, a little less sharp than the last. They turned onto a short passage, the one that ended in a dead end at the far side. Halfway down, they encountered their custom-made invasion route in the wall, blemishing the tunnel's perfection with rubble and jagged edges.

Leaping through with hesitation, Ripred jumped to the side as Gregor followed. Once all three of them were through the rat instantly began to heap neglected stone and boulder over the hole, in a futile attempt to buy them some time. It might give them a little, but only just. Because of this, and the need to get Luxa out, Gregor didn't bend down to assist, only stumbled up the passage instead on the continued way out.

Skipping and stumbling along the rough turns of the passage, Gregor slowly made his way along the tunnel, finding it much harder carrying Luxa, if only because it took extra care not to scrape her head against the sharp pricks of the wall. The tunnel's layout played into his memory, so that he was able to move slightly faster. Still, it was slow, and after only a minute of hasty passage Ripred had completed his job and caught up to Gregor. The rat didn't say anything, but anxious impatience radiated from him like sunlight, despite the absence of enemy footsteps anywhere in the dangerous vicinity.

At length, they spilled out into the adjoining chamber where several tunnels met. Unknown or ignored by the cutters, it was obviously empty. Dropping low in crouches even still because of the massive hole to the cavern on their left, Ripred and Gregor rushed across its extent. They hesitated for a quick moment, troubling to identify their route. Ripred discovered it and took off down the easier slope with even more speed than before.

Shallow bends and twists came around every corner, but they still covered it in good time, knowing the terrain and therefore able to proceed over it faster. Their silence was somewhat less than before, but they were on a strange level of understanding where they didn't need to speak, which gave its own contribution.

After almost ten minutes sprinting the tunnel, Ripred skidded to a halt and Gregor ran into him immediately. Righting themselves, Ripred growled in annoyance and hissed, "Quiet."

Freezing into the utmost silence, Gregor stood perfectly still with closed eyes and strained his ears to hear beyond the heavy breathing of them two, and the weakened inhale of Luxa. Above it all, he could hear nothing, but Ripred also sniffed in the air a few times, carefully taking in any scent. Pausing for a moment, he then said simply, "They found the tunnel."

Before Gregor could ask a question, the rat had turned once more to rush down the passage, and he was forced to follow quietly.

After only a further minute of travel they rushed into the small passage with their first viewing hole, forgetting that it sloped downward abruptly. Slipping out into the open, they painfully skimmed over the loose stones and points, Gregor trying to keep Luxa out of the rocks and Ripred attempting to control his body's slide.

Their slip halted at the far wall, and they both climbed stumbling to their feet over the rock as they rushed to renew their escape. Gaining footing at last on the stone, Gregor, under the bulk of another person, albeit light, took off immediately, knowing or at least hoping that Ripred was right behind him.

Where the path had been steep as hell on the way in it now declined like heaven, causing even more slipping and sliding, although now it was relatively controlled, and Gregor could make decent progress down. As hoped, Ripred joined him only slightly behind, and as they fell Gregor inquired in a low voice, "How much of an advantage do we have?"

"Better than none," Ripred replied, focused on keeping his footing. "They're a little frantic now, just searching everywhere they can and hoping like hell that they catch us before we can get away. They're a little in disarray, too. Switched to standby. Until they get new orders from the queen they'll do little for us, so we should really get out of here before her majesty decides to obliterate us."

Suddenly, the tunnel ended, giving way to the steep cliff edge they had used earlier for evasion. But Gregor, coming on too quick, couldn't quite screech in for a stop, and he ended on the ledge dangling dangerously over the edge. Giving out a cry of surprise that echoed throughout the cavern, Gregor tried to lean back out of the fall with Luxa's weight on his side. Even so he couldn't control his balance, and he began to tip. At the last moment Ripred lunged both paws out and snared Gregor's shirt in a fierce grip. Hauling with all might, the rat somehow managed to haul both humans back to the ledge's safety, where they collapsed in a heap.

But the sound of Gregor's cry rebounded away and away and away out into the cavern...

"Damn it!" Ripred snarled loudly, disregarding of any secrecy any longer. In anguish, Gregor could already hear the remote footfalls of charging cutters, running frantically to intercept them before they could escape. "Down there! Hurry!"

Obeying instantly as the rat swung himself harshly over the ledge to climb downwards Gregor pulled himself to his feet, burdened down with Luxa as it was. Not able to take the time for a climb, and, simply, not having the ability while carrying another person, Gregor bent over and summoned a hard grip with his left hand on the ledge. Swinging down over the short chasm, Gregor let go to fall the thirteen or so foot distance to the ground.

Slamming hard with his feet, he felt a number of things go wrong with the ligaments in his knees. Somehow, though, he managed to land cleanly on his feet, and nothing broke. Stumbling painfully, he gripped Luxa and kept her from falling to the ground. As Ripred hopped down behind him, Gregor was already sprinting off back down the tunnel's length again, back towards where Equinox distantly lay in wait for them.

They ran side-by-side, leaving as they had entered, but with Luxa with them on the way out. They ran faster than Gregor ever had in his life, but he never seemed to tire, even as the minutes began to dissolve into tens of minutes. They never slowed, and still never seemed to breath heavy. Gregor wondered if it were a side effect or even a main part of rager ability.

What it took them nearly eight hours to cover on the way in they traversed again in only one and a half on return. Even as they did so, however, the roaring of the cutters coming after them had grown from one to a hundred, and every moment Gregor kept expecting to become aware of them in rear echo. But still, they never appeared, even as Ripred rushed him harder and more frantically.

They rushed past a marking on the wall, a great black spot of something Gregor couldn't identify, that he remembered, and as it retreated again into the distance Ripred looked up in the complete darkness to the ceiling and screamed at the top of his voice, "EQUINOX!"

Silence was irrelevant. They were discovered, and they needed Equinox to come immediately. Gregor's ears shook with the repercussions of the shriek, but he approved of the method nonetheless.

And as they approached the point of their departure Gregor heard by their sprinting steps the outline of the gigantic bat as he flew out of the darkness and closer to the ground. Ripred rushed even harder on, alerting their exact location, and Gregor struggled to follow.

Equinox reared up for a quick landing, and Ripred stopped to allow Gregor the first one to mount. As Gregor jumped to the climb on top of the bat's back, Equinox started talking quickly. "You have her! Well done! This----"

"Not now!" Gregor interrupted, setting Luxa carefully down in front of him and setting himself up in a correct position. Ripred leaped up behind them, and although Equinox's body sagged slightly downward, it was clear that his maximum weight capacity was higher.

"Flt, Equinox!" Ripred ordered, still getting placed on the bat's back. "Quickly."

Gregor looked back down the tunnel's extent, fearing what he would find there. True to his fears, the line of cutters had imposed on his earshot range. They were running faster than Gregor knew any human could, and he wondered how Ripred and he had ever been able to escape their clutches in the first place. As it was, they came down with blind ferocity and anxiety, two emotions that never did good in a combination. What was more, their line of forces flooded back as far as Gregor could tell, occupying the full line of the cavernous tunnel and all of its length back.

"Quickly!" he yelled himself, and Equinox spread quick wings wide. Catching light air beneath his limbs, they slowly gained air, out and ahead of the cutters and lightly gaining height.

Before long Gregor was sure that they were out of striking height for the cutters, but, in apparent desperation and determination the cutters did not give up their pursuit, nor apparently did they tire or hesitate in their chase. They came just as quickly and abruptly as before, their steps shaking the chamber and the air inside of it with shattering force.

They flew on, Equinox straining to fly faster and away. Gregor wrapped his arms around Luxa's waist and pulled her against his chest, for his own comfort as much as her protection. Ripred had a claw dug into his side, and although it gave a small shot of pain it also gave Gregor a small sense of hope.

But the cutters came on, no sign of relenting. Minutes again stretched into hours, Equinox straining to get ahead of the enemies, not speaking for loss of concentration. Even still, he couldn't get the advantage in distance over them, and the gap between them even seemed to close. Ripred didn't say a word, but Gregor could hear and feel the rat's shoulders hunch and unclench repeatedly out of frustration and rare fear.

The distance back to human territory was steadily decreasing, but Gregor found himself realizing that the cutters weren't going to stop at the border. If they had come this far, they weren't going to give up until they had been defeated or until they succeeded. There would be only one way this could all end unless Equinox gained an advantage in speed, and that was a way Gregor felt was undesirably obvious.

Over a long period, in which Ripred remained completely silent but agitated, Gregor growled and hissed, "Come on, Equinox. You should be able to fly faster than this. We need speed!"

"Yes, Overlander," Equinox whispered in reply, still straining for air and distance, "I should be flying faster than this. But for some reason, I cannot."

"What?" Gregor replied anxiously.

"I am unsure," Equinox replied, beating at the strange slight wind upon the air. "I just can't seem to get enough air or wind behind my wings to give me traction through the air, thereby speed. I am most confused and horrified."

Gregor didn't reply, leaning down into Luxa's shoulder and wondering what else could go wrong in this. It took him a moment to then remember all that had gone right which should have instead gone wrong, and his attitude improved a slight bit. There were still in the predicament, however, and they would soon have to get out of it or, regrettably, die trying.

Gregor and Ripred both continued to take glances back at the cutter line, increasing and deflating with the curves and narrowing of the tunnels. They both saw some of the creatures become trampled by their own fellows in the scramble to pursue their rescued captive. It disgusted them both, but they had bigger problems to worry about than something so conventional.

Ripred leaned over to Gregor's ear at a point and snarled softly, "We've crossed over into joint gnawer/human territory, and they come on. They're not going to stop now, boy."

"But what can we do about it?" Less than a second after the question left his mouth, his brain clicked and he said, "No."

"We can't let them keep going----"

"We're two people, Ripred! What can we do?"

"Two _ragers_, Gregor. There is a chance here----"

"There are _thousands_ there. Not even two ragers can take that many down."

"Then what do we do instead?" Ripred sighed, bowing his head low in resignation, asking a question Gregor did not want to answer in the slightest. "Do we let them overrun Regalia? Because, believe me, that is exactly what they plan to do. The army can't handle them. We probably can't. But if we can take out a good few thousand while the forces assemble we might put up a fighting chance."

"So it's sacrifice then?" Gregor whispered. "Always? Sacrifice is the answer?"

"No," Ripred said, swiveling to glance back once more at the cutters. "Sacrifice is the question. Surviving sacrifice is the answer, and that is exactly what we're going to be trying to do."

Gregor didn't respond immediately, thinking instead. He look out in thought to the darkness, where he knew laid the walls of the cavern, tall and dark. He stared into the distance, where he knew shone the city of Regalia, with despairing people over the loss of their queen. He looked to Equinox, trying so hard and yet not getting so far. And finally he looked to the beautiful face lying unconsciously in front of him, and he made his decision.

"Fine, then," he said. "To surviving."

Ripred nodded. "Ten minutes to the city. With any luck they might already know the cutters are coming, through some method or another." Not a word more was spoken, and not a word more was needed.

Gregor spent the last ten minutes of what he couldn't help but think might be his _last_ ten minutes staring lovingly at Luxa's face. To remember or to hold after so long of nothing is truly a remarkable thing, and, to be completely honest with himself, he hadn't felt as happy in the last five years as he did at this very moment, sitting there, with Luxa in his arms, through all his blood and sweat. No tears. He wondered if their love was truly meant to be. Probably not, if he was about to go to his death. Maybe she would move on with the Viceroy. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to or not. He didn't think about it. There was no need for the time being.

Light began to filter into the massive tunnel, and it gradually began to narrow. As the cutters began to close as well Ripred ordered Equinox to fly closer to the ground, and the bat complied wordlessly. While Gregor had yet to feel exhausted after so much in the past day alone the bat seemed to be hardly able to lift a wing after each stroke. Still, he flew on.

And then they were out of the tunnel, into the cavern of the humans, and over the fields they were flying. Regalia loomed largely up ahead, raised slightly over the grounds of approach. The castle and all appeared majestic to Gregor in a final look.

Ripred gripped the back of Gregor's shirt as they streaked across the field, signaling the near time. With a quick back-glance, Gregor watched the cutters stream out of the tunnel and charge across after Equinox, towards the one short land bridge that led from the level of the fields to the city above.

Taking a deep breath and turning ahead, Gregor swallowed and muttered in a calm voice, "Equinox? No matter what happens, get her back. Just get her back. No matter what."

Equinox didn't reply, but his full forces were being exerted, and Gregor didn't really expect one. Gregor pressed his lips to the back of Luxa's head and kissed her hair tenderly. Making sure she had an unconscious grip on Equinox without his assistance, he slowly disentangled himself from her and nudged away. "Goodbye."

Equinox flew directly over the land bridge, and at exactly the same time Ripred and Gregor leaped off the bat to the ground below. Stumbling and rolling in landing, they both immediately climbed to their feet, taking several deep, shaking breaths as they quickly observed the number of adversaries about to attempt an overrun of their position.

Gregor drew his scimitar and closed his eyes, letting life flow through him. He didn't know how much longer it would be there, and he had to cherish it. He moved so that Ripred was blocking one half of the passage and he the other, and then stood loosely up to face whatever end was coming.

"You're an excellent rager," Ripred said suddenly, gazing out at the approaching cutters.

Instead of replying with something along the lines of that conversation, Gregor opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to see his rat friend. "Can you just tell me one more thing, Ripred?"

"Of course."

Facing the cutters and thinking back to a misinterpreted prophecy long ago, Gregor whispered, "Why was I able to see this coming?"


	17. 16: Cut by the Lair

**Thanks to Sum Vi3t Kid, Fitz Mark, Seraphania, Castaway5, november21, shadowblade546, stephanie, ifIhadmyway, Ailat, dji435, and Luny Lovegud.**

**I say nothing. Chapter 16. Don't kill me.**

**Disclaimer: Only the plot and select characters.**

**16**

**Cut by the Lair**

He had eyes only for the advancing cutter line. The last line of conversation between he and Ripred went unattended and promptly died, and then it was just the two of them, their thoughts, and the thousands of cutters about to make a run over them.

Behind their backs, Gregor heard Equinox's strong wings beat just out of his earshot, and he took a small comfort in knowing that at least Luxa would get away. His life was about to be forfeit, but every victory came at a price, and the price being paid was one he hadn't really expected to retain even in the event of total failure.

Ripred was staring down the cutters with an amazing calm, as if they were nothing more than a thousand of surface ants trying to overrun a summer picnic. Out of his unconscious peripheral vision Gregor silently stood in awe at the rat's brilliance. With what he could only hope was a relative mirroring composure, Gregor took a firm step forward, calling on his rager's senses in advance. Instead of bringing the scimitar to rest in front of him, Gregor lifted it up with both hands and over his head to rest behind it, closing his eyes and gathering a sense of the situation through echolocation.

Swallowing several times and taking many deep breaths, he calmed his exploding heartbeat with serene determination, and, in what he couldn't help but think of as his last words, said, "Ragers to the end. Run like the river, Ripred."

The cutters were two hundred meters away, crossing the last of the steady ground before the incline bridge to city-level.

"To the end. Fly you high, Gregor," Ripred replied, squatting down into a warrior's trance, both paws digging harshly into the dirt in guidance for his soul, claws ripping away at the earth.

One hundred meters away, and Gregor remembered the first time he kissed Luxa, on the floor of the Overland museum in Regalia. The memory was distant, but he could still remember the boyish thrill, his still-existent heart's flutter, the soft contour of her lips as they pressed softly but confidently against his.

Pleasant memories in his head, Gregor gripped his scimitar with poise, leaping to the tips of his toes as the first cutters crawled to twenty, ten, five...

Not patient enough for the wait, Gregor snarled and leaped directly into the oncoming patrol. Before he could even call them to action his rager senses kicked into control. As he fell amongst the cutters their bodies and severed limbs went flying in all directions, not a single one of them able to bypass or get even a single blow in on the mad warrior they were facing. Gregor had only a limited consciousness, most of his senses on autopilot already, but what he was able to see and comprehend almost frightened him in its extent.

Both he and Ripred were fighting the numbers of complete population, but somehow they almost seemed to be winning. Almost no cutters broke their two-man line, and those who did were either severely injured or already crippled beyond hope.

Heads and thoraxes and legs and antennae went flying in all directions in a horrid frenzy of sword and disembodied pincher. Two shades of red blood splattered layer over layer all over Gregor's hands, clothes, and face, but he was confused as to whose it was, since he was positive that he had yet to sustain even a scratch.

The cutter stampeded was so dense and insane that Gregor couldn't even see across to discern Ripred's victims from the globular mass. Judging by the lack of penetrations in their defense, though, it was quite clear that somehow, in some way, both ragers were still fighting as hard as was possible, and much stronger than either of them had ever thought the either capable of.

Even as they sliced away enemy after enemy, however, Gregor felt himself taking unconscious and forced steps backward, loosing momentum and ground quickly. His sword was a blur amongst the jabbing legs and pinchers, but still he felt the dirt sliding past underneath and knew abruptly that the wall formed wouldn't last forever.

Forcing himself past his rager instincts back into a subtle level of his mind, Gregor tried to make himself hold his ground. But only a few seconds later the sheer weight of the cutter force pounding into his blade forced him back again, and it took all of his skilled agility and leg strength to keep from falling head over heels to the ground in a useless heap.

Brought on by that unpleasant vision, Gregor could only imagine what would happen if he lost his grip on the blade. If he was overrun and forced to the ground the lack of a weapon would surely mean horrible defeat. He would be forced painfully to the ground and trampled just in the mad rush to get into the city. Not to mention what the cutters would do if they actually realized he was there.

Swinging around out of distraction, he hacked off eight heads in a single three-hundred-and-sixty-degree swipe, regrouping and deflecting the attacks of eleven more as he did so. By his dazed reckoning, he was fighting around twenty different spars at once, on his left, right, and even as some bold creatures tried to make a leap over his head.

Distantly, muffled by the infinite number of cutters in between them both, Gregor heard Ripred give a snarl of frustration and, mildly, exhaustion, and also caught the sound of a good number of bodies being ripped appropriately to shreds. Dealing with his own adversaries gave him little time to feel content, but, deep down, he got a small sense of pride that they were somehow managing to hold off this inexhaustible army of cutters.

_But where the hell is the backup?_

The army of Regalia should have been at their side, fighting off invaders. Gregor noted grimly that they were running out of space before the land bridge gave way to city, at which time it would be impossible for the two of them, rat and human, to hold off the cutters anymore. Forty feet farther on, he knew their limited defense would crumble to uselessness. But, from his perspective and position doing his best to keep his footing and decapitate as many cutters as he could at the same time, that was something that he was out of place to control.

Left and right swings quickly relieved a number of enemies of their lives, but even as thirty dropped dead a hundred more leaped up to take their place. He managed to gain a step as he went in a mad spinning hack, but he lost two more when they discovered the weakness in that plan and forced him to adjust as they refined and renewed their attack. For a split second, Gregor wondered how they coordinate like that when they were dropping so fast and losing intelligence with their fallen, but he reasoned that at a level he couldn't discern they were making a communicative scream back at the coming to make sure they were prepared for what they were about to face.

Caught up in reasoning and mathematics and inward struggles of deeper pain, Gregor was too late to stop a flying pincher from penetrating his left defense. His quick rager instincts gave him an abrupt choice: duck-dodge the coming blow and loose a step or two while staying unscathed, or take the strike at a minimum and try to endure the pain as he continued. With less than a millisecond to decide, Gregor made with his noble side and took the shot.

The cut wasn't deep by his standards, the pincher sinking in less than a half-inch to his left bicep. The scars on his chest had been much worse, and he knew he could take the pain in stride without a problem. The only dilemma was the actual damage to the arm, and whether it had sunken deep enough into the skin to cause a deficit in his fighting ability.

Trying to swing full forced by his strong left hand proved his worries to be true. A searing hot knife or agony erupted up his arm as he tried the strike, and it only flashed through half of the cutters it had been intended to hit. Loosing drive and plans, Gregor had to jump and leap in midair, ignoring both the pain and the impulse to cry out, while shifting all management of the scimitar to his right hand. Landing again, he wasted precious reserve energy cleaning up the mess of escapees that his injury had left. Mentally, he cursed himself, wondering why he had ever taken such a worthless and devastating blow for the chancy good of the battle.

Their space was thinning, on both sides of the land bridge. The cutters could still not find a break between or around the two ragers to rampage through and into the city, but the farther they forced the two back the closer they came to their goal. Gregor began to put extra force behind swings to try and gain a dirt advantage over the creatures.

Numbers weren't everything, but when you got them in the bulk of the cutter species they sure made an unreal difference, and right now Gregor was wondering if the entire Regalian army had fallen asleep on their random couches.

It was insane that he and Ripred were fighting a war alone, and strangely enough nearly holding their own. Despite losing their ground Gregor's subconscious mathematical mind was bringing up their combined kill count to somewhere nearing the multiple thousands.

_Mareth_, he thought to himself, anger and fear and hatred pooling all into one large container of fury. _When I'm overrun, I'm gonna come find you as a ghost. Then I'll haunt you for the rest of your life. Then, when you die, I'll kill you._ He didn't even care that it didn't make sense.

Less than twenty feet remained before the city break, and, as the path widened farther to accommodate the mouth of the bridge it became harder and harder to prevent any penetration of their line. With every swing Gregor had to reach farther and farther to the sides, and each time it left more openings in the middle for cutters to get in random pinches and cuts and slices. Soon his own blood had added itself to the coatings over his skin and clothes, seeping slowly under action from the dozens of short gashes now slathered over his arms and chest.

Their time was running out. Exhaustion was finally beginning to creep over Gregor, something that hadn't hit him throughout the entire few days' ordeal. His mind was working overkill just to keep his rager side in check from insanity, and his rager side was working overkill just to keep the cutters from running him right over. Beside him, he knew Ripred was experiencing the same, if at a much smaller and limited level than his. He could only hope that the rat was faring better than him as the adversaries came on and on and on, utterly relentless.

And then, almost magically, the attacks seemed to rear up. The cutters kept striking, but their forward advancement halted. After a few moments of harsh hesitation, where a slow pile of bodies began to form.

Abruptly, as quickly as they had ceased their attack, a high-pitched screech began to emanate amongst the attacking clan, and as one they leaped up and began to scurry away down the land bridge and out into the barren field faster than they had come, flying in something akin to hasty anxiousness, something Gregor hadn't known a cutter to possess.

Already a long distance behind, Gregor leaped after them, determined to take out as many as he could before they were able to escape his fiery clutches. Slower than a crawling beast, however, he was only able to take out and finish off those who lagged behind. Deprived of ruining any more lives of those that had taken away his, he was forced to pull up at the base of the bridge and observe the reason they had suddenly decided to up and away.

The Regalians had finally arrived. Mounted on fliers, hundreds of soldiers dipped down into the cutter midst as it retreated ever farther away. Making bold dives into them, the fliers ripped apart cutter bodies while arches on more timid creatures cut down the beasts from above.

Watching in mild content as the hunter got hunted, Gregor observed the remnants of the battlefield. Up the land bridge bodies were everywhere, courtesy of their amazing stand against the invasion. Blood covered the ground so that it was just a solid, horrid mass of red, seeping down and into the fields beyond. Across their escape track, only the bodies of the trampled and the arched lay dead, the others escaping at the last moment or lugging their injuries with them. Smaller fliers easily picked off those who couldn't pull themselves away from their pain quick enough. Finally, as the cutters scrambled back into their dark hole the majority of the fliers veered off their course and turned back to Regalia, while only the largest and strongest flew on to chase the brutes back to their territory. Distantly, Gregor thought he caught the sight of Equinox's black coat amongst, having been relieved of Luxa and rejoining the fight.

Taking a deep breath, hoping his adrenaline rush wouldn't die down to give way to his injuries, Gregor let his shoulders sag, his muscles relax, and his teeth unclench as their victory became clear. "Well," he mumbled, cracked lips forcing words croakily outward. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

He reached an arm up to wipe trailing blood from his eye, swatting it to the ground. He waited for a response, but Ripred evidently wanted to keep his quiet, for some reason or another. It was very unlike him, actually. Usually the rat made it a point of speaking whenever he could.

"Nothing to say to that?" Gregor asked exhaustedly as he continued to survey the victorious Regalians.

No answer.

"Ripred?" he called uncertainly. He turned slowly around, looking for a face he wished so gravely would be there. Nothing but cold, empty air met his gaze, and the small, sweeping wind that hung hauntingly over the battlefield.

"No," Gregor moaned, already stepping back on his way to the top of the bridge again. Within only a few steps a hastened pace had escalated to a frantic sprint, his eyes sweeping quickly over bodies, searching desperately for a hard, firm face and a mocking stare.

"Ripred!" he called loudly as he ran higher, lunging past body after body of cut-down cutter, having eyes for nothing but the giant bulk of a single rat. "Ripred!" No answer penetrated the air, and Gregor's heartbeat stammered back to breakneck pace, beating out into the air to perform a solitary sound of agony.

"RIPRED!" he screamed, just as he reached the top of the bridge. Sweeping gaze from left to right, he yelled louder and louder, running between the heaps of death, until he finally caught the site of harsh fur buried beneath the corpses of four cutters. Leaping over with a cry of anguish, he quickly shoved off the evil creatures, ignoring the exploding pain in his left arm, and finally rolled over the rat to see the damage inflicted upon his body.

Gashes and shearing cuts the size of sword blades, covered the rat's legs and arms, seeping red in gallons. Two of the rager's toes were missing, and Gregor could see grimly that the rat's nose was either deformed or completely missing. His eyes were open, staring blankly up to the sky. But above all, there was a huge hole in his chest, spilling blood in tsunami waves. There was so much liquid red Gregor couldn't even see the actually wound, but he could see that from the harsh rising and falling of the rat's chest that he was still alive. Barely.

And that there was absolutely no hope.

"Ripred!" he screamed, leaning over his friend's body.

The rat coughed, spitting up even more blood, then gave a harsh growl, reaching with impossibly weak arms to halt Gregor's staunching arms. "Boy... no... hope..."

"No!" Gregor screamed in retort, tearing off his shirt and trying desperately to stamp out the great spilling of his chest. It was drenched red in a second, but still he pushed on. "Hold on, Ripred! Just hold on----"

"Stop... Listen..."

"Just shut up and hold still!" Gregor urged stubbornly, pressing harder. "Come on, Ripred, don't give up!"

"No, boy... you have to listen!" the rat screeched in too much exertion. Falling back in a coughing fit which spewed more body liquid than he could possibly still retain, the rat limply slapped Gregor's arms away. "You have... to... listen! Things... that... can't be... left undone..."

Residing into sorrow fits, Gregor sat back and shook his head. "Stop, Ripred. Just please, try and stay still and conserve your energy!"

"No, boy!" the dying creature snarled softly. "I am... gone... nothing... can be... done. Just... listen... please..."

Gregor, caught between duty and will, found a war even in the stupid moment. Fighting between his side of emotion and his side of blank kindness, he closed his eyes to blink back tears, before he realized that none were jumping from his lids. Opening them again, he stared down at his dying friend and decided to grant the rat's final wish in quiet compliance.

"There... was... someone inside," Ripred moaned out, fighting his body's attempts to shut down permanently for a final few moments. "Someone... inside... who knew about... kidnap... helped cutters... get her..."

Interrupting, Gregor tried frantically to interpret the garbled sentences. "Someone on the inside? In Regalia? Who knew about the cutters and their plan and helped them to get Luxa?"

With a great effort, Ripred nodded. "I was... trying to find... them. But... they knew, and... they got... away... I don't... know... not for sure... who... have to... finish the process... can't... let... happen again..." With a trembling paw, Ripred reached up desperately and dug into Gregor's skin, pulling him downward and closer. Gregor ignored the obvious pain completely and followed without protest. "You... must continue... what I... started... or everything... will go... for... nothing..."

He collapsed into hacking fits, and Gregor eased away, watching his friend descend into oblivious darkness in horrid pain. Ripred recovered and pulled him back, continuing in a horrible tone where each word was intentionally apart. "Do... not... let... her... go... or everything... will fall... to hell... follow... here..." He tapped at Gregor's chest, indicating the Overlander's heart where words failed him. "It... will... lead you to... where you mind... cannot follow..."

Removing the rat's paw from his chest, Gregor gripped it lightly but solidly with his hand, holding onto life with every ounce of strength. "I will," he promised. "I will. Don't worry. You won't be forgotten."

His breath harsher, Ripred solemnly growled, "I guess... I... broke... my promise... you said... not... die..."

But Gregor just shook his head and gripped the paw harder. Ignoring the comment, he said instead, "You'll be remembered, and live on, in all of us. And with you, your children, and your family, and all you taught."

Tears filling his eyes, Ripred bowed his head back against the rough ground. "Then I... will... keep my... word... and... watch on... in spirit... over... all... of you..."

Shaking himself now, Gregor choked, "You don't believe in spirit or the afterlife."

"I... don't... goddamn... care anymore..."

His life was shortening, the final breaths of something long and true and happy and painful coming all to a close because of a few deep scratches sustained in deep defense of a city that wasn't even the rat's own. Every moment ever with Ripred filling his mind, Gregor laid the rat's hand over his heart and leaned over to gaze into his eyes for one, last time. "Run like the river, Ripred the gnawer."

Ripred took a strained breath. "Fly you... high... Gre... gor... the... Over... lan..." His breath rushed out in a single gust, the last unspoken syllable dying on his lips. Gregor watched in anguish as the colorful life drained instantly from his eyes, leaving nothing but cold emptiness in its horrible place. The paw resting beneath his light hand trembled once and went rigidly limp.

In the dark light of the Underland, Ripred died.

**END OF PART 2**


	18. 17: State of Mind

**Thanks to november21, tcat75, stephanie, Fitz Mark, Castaway5, shadowblade546, laxxgoal31, and Alot Like Gregor.**

**Yes, I killed Ripred. Sorry and what not, but it fit the plot and my mindset. Don't think I'm heartless, he was my favorite UC character, too. I just felt like it was time for some death. On the upside, here is part 3! More importantly, chapter 17! (Oh, and please don't yell at me for any mistakes I make with personality and so forth. I know I suck at that and you really don't have to tell me so. Thank you, and sorry for being so annoying and rude.) Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: See Chapters 1-sideways eight.**

**PART 3**

**SHATTERED SELF**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**17**

**State of Mind**

In the darkness, there was color.

It was light, extremely faint in the farthest unit of distance, but Luxa immediately found her full attention encompassed by it. She tried to move towards it, and although she wasn't quite sure she had a body to move with her mind went with her will, and the light gradually began to grow in brightness.

As she got closer and closer, her thoughts seemed to run clearer and clearer, and coherent view started to enter the spectrum. Blue and red and purple flowed into the white as well, forming a blinking panorama of view as it became larger and larger.

Luxa opened her eyes.

Surprise and fear and adrenaline all rushed into her as one, and she bolted up at once. She was lying in a bed, clothed with only a light white gown of the medical patient variety in the Regalian infirmary. As she shot upright a dark figure at her side rushed to hold her back, calling to her even as she cried out in a combination of fearsome emotions. Her hands shot out of their own accord in ancient reflex and caught the figure's, a man by his silhouette against the high lights, wrists, restraining them from coming into contact with her skin.

"Luxa," the man said soothingly. "Luxa, it is alright. It is alright. I am here."

Unable to place the voice, Luxa looked right into the man's face, expecting on a quick and hopeful note that she would find the man who had rescued her from her prison, the one she had waited for over five years, the one she had never dared to think about again for the length of her life----

But it wasn't Gregor. The Viceroy Arthur stood over her, clutching at her arms with calm hands a drawn smile. The plummet in her chest could have been registered as an earthquake had anyone taken the time to look for such. Even with a kind grin Luxa still saw the empty void that was Gregor's and would never be filled, and even in her current state it almost blinded her with pain.

Outwardly, though, she managed to slow her breathing and plaster a calm mood about herself. Aloud, she muttered simply, "Arthur."

"I am here," he said, catching her hands together and enclosing them within only one of his massive own. He used the other one to lean over and stroke the thin, wispy hair falling lightly off of her temple. "Do not worry. You are safe."

Resisting the repulsive urge to shrug away from his nimble affections and light, soothing tones, Luxa let herself relax in his grip, taking a shuddering breath to regain herself after a few hard moments of turmoil. Gaining more sense, her head darted left and right as she tried to grow some bearing of her situation. "What has happened? Where am I?"

Arthur opened his mouth with a comforting smile on his face to sooth her with a gentle reply, but before he could speak a strong voice interrupted him from behind. "Rest, Luxa. You are safe. Be content with that strong knowledge." Vikus stepped out from behind the Viceroy, his face a hard mask of sincerity. In his expression, though, his eyes showed great relief and warmth, and there was even the faintest hint of a smile gracing his wired lips. Also, on a more personal level, judging from the color of his robes, a low blue, she knew that he was feeling roughly content in his soul.

She heard a rustle behind her betrothed and grandfather, and into view jumped in her foster brother, Hazard. His face lighting up to no known avail, he leaped at her bedside so quickly she shrugged back in surprise and both of the others had to throw out a restraining arm to hold the boy back from his excitement. "Luxa!" he cried enthusiastically, and her visitors slowly let him go.

Calming himself, the boy slowly walked to her and enveloped her in a hug. Lightly, she returned it, suddenly realizing how weak she felt. Only able to drape her arms around her brother and squeeze lightly, she let go and fell back against the back of her bed, feeling exhausted despite the small exertion. Propping herself up again, she looked into Hazard's face and said, "It is good to know you're okay."

"Forget about me," Hazard practically shouted, provoking a disapproving glare from Arthur and a light arm slap from Vikus. Lowering his voice, he continued, "What about you? They had you for so long. I was so worried! They had me thinking you'd never come back, and I had lost my sister on top of everything else!"

"Not yet," Luxa replied softly, smiling lightly against the metal headboard. "You will have to do more than that captivity to be rid of me." She reached out a hand to him, which he took with a beaming smile. Despite her weakened state and unusually heavy heart, it did her a great happiness to see him in such a good mood. In the first months after Gregor's departure, only he had been able to keep her going on.

Looking over his shoulder, up to Arthur, who stood with a reassuring hand resting atop her leg, she asked again, "What happened? I only remember lying in that cell, and then there was a great explosion sound in the distance."

Arthur nodded his head, his smile broadening slightly in tenderness. "The Overlander rescued you. From what we hear, you were in a side part of the Lair, and they were able to get to you with a minimal level of difficulty."

"Although," Vikus interjected, gazing at Arthur to his obliviousness with mild annoyance, "stating anything involving the cutters with 'minimal level of difficulty' is a bit of an understatement."

"But I was knocked out?" Luxa pushed forward, her grin slipping away in desperation for news. "The whole way back here? How did we travel? Were there fliers with us?"

Vikus opened his mouth hesitantly to reply, but before he could footsteps sounded behind the trio of visitors and the scraping sound of the veil to her infirmary chamber sounded as the cloth was swept aside with a practiced hand. Out of view, she heard a familiar voice call out. "Please, save the interrogations for later. She is very weak, and needs a lot of rest before you can do anything but stand there and speak quietly with her."

Howard, fully clothed in a drastic white healer's uniform, rounded her visitors, smiling in a broad yet restrained manner. Somehow managing to display irritation and relief at the same time towards them and her respectively, he offered her a wan smile as he rounded the bedside to the opposite of the others. "How are you feeling?"

"Weak," Luxa replied honestly, leaning her head back against the wall once more, trying to make light sense of all that was trying to form in her mind at the same time. "Nothing really hurts. I just have no energy."

"That is good," Howard nodded, reaching for her stone bedside table. Pouring a foul-looking liquid into a small cup and handing it gingerly to her, he continued, "Your medication has been fierce in unconsciousness. It helped that you seemed to be in a strange comatose state, so the difficulties were minimal. Drink that up. It will help with lightheadedness."

She obeyed him, tipping the cup boldly down her throat without a tainted facial expression. Contrary to the appearance, its taste wasn't all that terrible, and she managed to down it without even threatening to cough it back up.

Observing her reaction carefully, Howard's smile widened and he set the bottle of medicine back onto the table. "Excellent. I will tell you one thing of our cutter friends: they have absolutely _no_ idea of how to deal with human prisoners. They did not even drug you, just lower your sustenance to a near fatal level. Even so, it was remarkable you pulled through it at all. It must have taken a great level of strength to live in such confinement."

Arthur fidgeted uncomfortably, Hazard hand shook once over hers, and Luxa's mind flashed quickly to the thoughts that were responsible for keeping her alive throughout the ordeal. A quick flash of guilt and annoyance at having such deep reveries, especially in the presence of her betrothed, forced her to quickly divert her mind set, and she focused for distraction upon the strange after taste lingering in her mouth.

While she did so, Howard turned away from her to face her three visitors. "And you. I must say that if you intend to pester her for information then I will not have you in my rooms. She is in absolutely no condition to have what you want forced from her." Intentionally, he seemed to be singling out Arthur from the group.

Promptly, Arthur stared him down from a few additional inches in height and somehow managed to slip out in a polite tone, "I mean nothing to her but sympathy, now, master doctor. Please have my assurances that no intentions rest here of interrogation."

Howard snorted in a quiet way. "Oftentimes, a soldier who promises not to fight has both hands wrapped around a sword hilt----"

"Howard," Luxa warned quietly. Even in her depleted form she held the regal form of a queen, and her voice instantly subdued Howard to a muffled entourage of ruffled mumblings as he went about adjusting her bed sheets slightly.

"Are you hungry?" he asked once he was finished, standing up straight and crossing his hands promptly across his chest. "Thirsty?"

"Not at the moment," Luxa said, giving a reassuring squeeze to Hazard's hand when he gave her a look of incredibility. "I will rather full, as it turns about."

Howard nodded, already taking steps backward around the bed and towards the door. "Unsurprising. With your lesser diet of late you shouldn't take much food to be content. Nevertheless, we must increase supplement at a careful rate to get you back up to condition without incident. If there is nothing further, though, I have other patients to attend to. Excuse me, your Majesty."

He hurried from the room with the step of a busy individual, and Luxa watched him go in sympathy. So much death and destruction met them these days that his occupation was constantly needed, and although she knew her cousin loved his work, it didn't do him good to see so much decay and hell in life where there were also things so rich. But even there, she didn't know much.

Jumping out of reverie back to reality, she saw Arthur staring off into the distance as well. "Now that it comes up, I too have duties to attend to. I am sorry, dearest, but I really must----"

"It is fine," Luxa said, smiling briefly, looking him in the eye and trying to convey permission. Something danced deep in his fiery depths like hesitation or regret, but he nodded with a quick thanks, and, once addressing Vikus on a matter of state, he left the room without a backward glance.

As the cloth swung closed in blockade behind him, Vikus let out a pent up breath, and Hazard's shoulders sagged in visible relief. Luxa raised an eyebrow, and her chosen brother let out an uneasy laugh before he said, "I really wish it could have been someone else, Luxa. This man really makes me nervous."

Luxa shrugged impartially, looking up to Vikus at the same time. A light smirk entering her expression, she said, "Is that where you stand as well?"

Vikus hesitated, smoothing out the sheets Howard had already flattened dallyingly, and then finally turn to face his granddaughter perfectly as he spoke his reply. "As it is, I am fine with the man. There are..." He hesitated, choosing words carefully. "..._better_ choices, but overall nothing could bring the people of our two cities together more. I am very proud of you for making the sacrifice."

"My definition of sacrifice differs from yours," Luxa replied, thinking deeply of Arthur. Her feelings for him were confusing, and she wasn't sure if she wanted them to actually be clear. To distract her mind, however, a new thought popped up, one that made her heart plummet in fear and shock. Sitting up straight, she said, "Where's Gregor? Why is he not here?"

Raising a quick hand in restraint, his face crinkling in worry, Vikus gently pushed past Hazard to hold back Luxa. "Relax, Luxa. Peace. He is alive and well, barely a scratch on his body."

"Why is he not here?" Luxa demanded, denying the shame shooting into her at the childish remarks and mood. Her heart was still beating frantically, scared of the unspoken thoughts she was praying would prove unnecessary and foolish.

"Howard would only allow family while you were unconscious," Vikus said, grimacing in an understanding way as he stepped back again. Laying a hand on Hazard's shoulder, he said, "We have been here for a few hours. Gregor tried to get in, but Howard wouldn't allow it. Both nearly got into a shouting match."

The all-too plausible image of her cousin and her savior screaming at each other displayed itself plainly inside her mind, but she did her best to ignore it. It was mildly comical, to be honest with herself, but her mind was still too jumpy and her fear only becoming sedated.

"He doesn't consider Gregor _family_?" she cried disbelievingly, but the answering glare from Vikus shot into her mind a series of ancient memories of Howard disapproving greatly of anything past friendly interaction between her and Gregor. Considering just how much more Gregor had seen Howard in their time before, she could imagine that he had gotten a lot more from her cousin than she had.

Hazard just remained silent, smart enough in his young age to remain silent about the subject. Instead, though, he stared down at his feet, which almost made it worse. It reminded Luxa how much turmoil she had gone through at Gregor's loss, and all it had sent her family through in compensation. Plus both of her bonds.

Vikus noticed the uncomfortable silence, and attempted whole-heartedly to break it with poise. "I will inform him that you are awake, however. I am sure after a while Howard will let up and he will be allowed in. Do not worry."

"Where is he now?" Luxa asked, more to herself than the others, and wondering whether she was speaking of his physical location or his mental situation.

No matter which one it was, Hazard gave a short smile and answered for their grandfather, breaking the apprehension running through her mind. "He is speaking of war with Mareth. They have been at it for hours, running over plots and plans. They are overworking themselves, but no one can convince them to stop." Gradually, as he neared the end of his explanation, his smirk disappeared into straightness again.

"Why is that?" Luxa pushed on, curious and anxious to get her mind diverted. "All of the plans for battle?"

Hazard hesitated wisely, as Vikus clamped the hand on the boy's shoulder down harder than before. It wasn't enough to hurt, just give a short warning. The two exchanged a glance before returning their attention to her. Her grandfather supplied the answer to the question. "In your escape, the cutters pursued. When they reached the city it took a lot to fight them off, and both the general and Gregor believe the cutters will return in another attempt, whether to get you back or destroy the city. We know not which. Perhaps both. We would only be positive if it happened, and all of us would much rather they not attack at all, obviously. Still, it is not your place to concern yourself with such things. Right now, the only thing you can do for your city is _rest_." His voice stressed itself at the end.

Luxa noticed something then in his expression. She couldn't tell what exactly, but there was something that wasn't quite right about the way he spoke. Something in his tone was off, and no matter what she looked at in the following few seconds she couldn't positively identify it. Turning her attention to her brother, she found the same thing, if a slight bit lesser, just in their visual appearance. She couldn't really point it out to herself. It was almost as if their smiles were off, genuine and forced at the same time, somehow, and something in their stance that displayed conflicting emotions locked together as one. Both were trying to hide it from her, however, as was evidently clear by their harsh silence and clear happiness at her recovery, no matter how early. With little else to do, not feeling up to confronting them on it, Luxa let the feeling slide away and leaned back against her rest, nodding and closing her eyes.

And then, just as fast as her mind could take the time to register it and her heart had time to drop to its deepest point, a sudden thought jumped to her head and her eyes snapped open. "Where is Ripred?" she said stonily, directing it at them both frantically and anxiously.

Alarmed, Hazard darted a look at Vikus, unwilling to look at her, and the old man suddenly became obsessed with the task of keeping his stare completely glued to the smooth rock of the floor. Between them both, a long silence penetrated the cold room with her question, and it only spread farther as her fear resurfaced in a different form and she took a short, terrified breath.

"Where is Ripred?"


	19. 18: A Mourning Morning

**Review thanks to Castaway5, shadowblade546, stephanie, november21, urbanrhapz, Luny Lovegud, EdgeStrife, and Ailat (x2).**

**So... what shall happen when our two most favoritest characters finally come together? Wouldn't you like to know? Well, here you are. Chapter 18 and all of its glory. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: To all of those people who **_**still **_**claim I'm Suzanne Collins (aka SERAPHANIA!!!!!)... ahem... I am not. Please get over it.**

**18**

**A Mourning Morning**

Luxa stayed in her bed for three more days, on Howard's direct order. She didn't protest, her mind too enveloped in naked despair for her to care any more than the slightest subconscious amount her brain automatically transmitted to her soul.

She didn't feel any change, but over time Howard told her that her condition was gradually strengthening, and that before long she might be able to leave the hospital. Everyone who came to visit, which was most of Regalia at any given time, insisted that sooner was better than later, but even though only her closest friends and family were allowed to actually see her, she didn't begin to feel any better any time anyone said she would be leaving the medical wing of the palace soon.

Besides, the one person who she actually wanted to see never came himself to visit her, and although she could understand the actual reason she didn't understand the fairness of it.

Howard told her that he actually had come in to see her twice, but she had been fast asleep at the time and neither of them had the will to wake her. Her cousin expected it to make her feel better, but for some reason it did the exact opposite, ruining her feelings farther and only causing her to speculate whether or not he was coming at those precise moments on purpose, so that he wouldn't have to face the daunting task of conversation with her, no matter no weak she was.

It took an unknown number of days to her, but finally Luxa regained a sense of purpose, albeit lesser to and still challenged by her unchanged grief. Lying in a bed had left her with nothing to do but think, and she was tired of doing it. She needed something to do, to keep her mind away from unpleasant places.

She asked her next visitor, a member of her city council, what the status of their operations was. As was expected, her request was politely rebuffed, lightly and kindly, on the terms that she was in no state and needn't worry quite yet about the affairs of the city. She accepted it without grudge.

She tried the same repeatedly throughout the day, but nothing came of it. Every question she attempted to ask was rebuked before it could be completed, and any of her efforts to learn of something outside of her white prison chamber turned up nothing.

Before long, the situation became annoying to her, even through her grief and pain. She was the queen. She had authority for anything, and should be simply able to learn of something remotely regal and important outside of her pathetic infirmary confinement with little effort.

When she finally got so frustrated as to bring her troubles up with Howard, he lectured her upon overexerting herself with the attempts. As so many had already told her, her place at the moment was not to worry about Regalia's safety.

After a great deal of prodding at the notion of being strictly confined to her room, however, Howard finally let in to a deal that she receive a daily walk, although very short and under guard at all times. It was nowhere close to what she had been hoping for, but at her position she would accept anything to see her city and find out what was going on.

The first morning she was allowed out she only had limited access around. Her clothing consisted only of the light nightgowns Howard had provided, attire that was neither sturdy nor adequate. Nevertheless, she went anyway.

The guard took only one prompt stare to defeat, and dismissal was easy. He nearly ran off as his weakened queen sent a dagger of a sharp gaze at his back. Without him tailing her everywhere it was considerably easier for her to look around without feeling uneasy.

Before long, however, her own stamina prevented any extended journey, and before she had even found her way out of the wandering halls of the castle she was forced to return to her free and dismal prison.

The next day the same event happened. And the one after that.

On the fourth day, as Howard came in to allow her out shortly after she awoke, Luxa requested that he bring her more appropriate clothes for walking. Reluctant but unwilling to risk angering her and worsening her condition, he complied. Setting out today with a sturdy cloth finally for garb in her walk instead of her usual gown, she swore to herself as she dismissed her guard in the usual fashion that she wouldn't halt today until she had accomplished her goal for the past four days.

Which, completely, was to find and confront Gregor.

Immediately as she stepped away from her chamber, she told herself to forget despair for a moment, to let go of her pain at Ripred, at conflict, at grief, and tried to remember all of the things she still had. Aurora, whose bulk had restricted her to one difficult but vastly appreciated visit. Hazard. Vikus. Her people.

She swallowed once. Gregor.

She swallowed twice. Arthur.

She shook her head quickly, as if to ward off evil thoughts. She had no idea what Gregor felt for her anymore----what brief indications she had caught in her cave prison back in the Lair had been short, blurry, and speculative----but no matter what he held for her she was positive that a meeting between her love and her betrothed would be unpleasant, if not explosive. They were eternally at odds with each other, even if neither of them knew it. In the writing. In the pain. In her heart.

She shook her head again, pushing to get herself past such thoughts. She didn't want to think so horribly, especially when such things added unto her grief. She had to focus on the here and now, which just so happened to be her trying to find Gregor. One little glance at his face would mean more than the Viceroy's hundred or so visits of the past four days.

She checked in the usual places, the empty council chamber, the guest quarters of the high wings, the main atriums of the palace. He was never in any of these places, but she found it prudent and desired to search them over as much as was possible, thinking he would pop up if she looked hard enough.

Once she had determined he was once more absent from the obvious places, she wandered intentionally into the denser portions of the palace, asking anyone she met if they had seen the Overlander at a recent time. Every time they answered the same, be them servant or swordsman, maid or warrior, child or elder.

"I have not, I am sorry. But, your majesty, should you not be in bed resting?"

She shrugged off all of those questions, nonchalant excuses always managing to keep the people at bay. A royal aura hung about her, a wave of confidence that enveloped the people around, even if the person at the center, Luxa, couldn't currently experience its effects herself. No one of a simple mind dared to question someone when they carried such a great strength along with them, and the determination pooling with higher emotions left no room for resistance.

The burden of her grief temporarily lifted from her mind did wonders to increase her strength, and she found after a good hour of strolling around looking for the one man she wanted at the moment she didn't feel in the slightest exhausted, which made her feel all the more rejuvenated. This time, her mission would complete itself for her, no matter what she had to do.

As she meandered out and away from the palace, down the short cliff by short ride of flier, she found herself unconsciously wandering amongst the more well-off districts of the town. She realized that her mind could no longer take the pain of depression, physical or mental, and needed something good to see for once, causing it to instinctively steer towards pleasure rather than horror.

As she dwindled amongst her surprised civilians, she saw that a good number of them were enshrouded completely in a swab of black, an ancient death practice carried on back from olden surface times and still undertaken centuries later. Mourning Ripred, she realized. Her heart dropped considerably at the scene, but it also did a great deal for her soul as well: she hadn't been the only human to realize that the old, grumpy rager had made a real difference in their bond together, for rats, for humans, and for the entire Underland, small or long or wide.

A follower of these thoughts, her legs began to take her in the direction of the rat district, farther and farther away from the castle as her mind lazed through reluctant memory after reluctant memory, remembering and mourning and silently despairing.

She only realized where she was when it came to her that she saw not one human around, and that the several dozen busy rats occupying the square with her had paused in surprise at the sight of the human queen strolling casually down their midst. Transactions at stalls instantly halted, mothers clung frozen to their pups, and a number of larger fellows gazed down upon her with expressions that were unexpected and unreadable.

Looking up to find herself it a most puzzling position, Luxa quickly opened her mouth on instinct, ready to pull out an explanation from one of the many Ripred had forced her to memorize long ago for a situation precisely like the current one. Before she had time to find one, however, her mind registered one fact about every single one of the rats of the street.

They had practically drowned themselves in harsh soot, turning sleek gray, marble white, and magnificent yellow all down to a single, desperate mourning color: black. They could all feel her pain. They had all lost their leader as well.

For what felt like a horrible eternity to her, nothing moved. No rat ran towards or away from her. Her feet stayed frozen to the ground and her gazed locked horribly over them all, unwilling to look away, her mouth jammed into a heartbroken "o". Only the soft bustling sounds of commotion in streets outside broke the horrible silence, as if supernatural forces out of view magically stilled the air.

And then, after the longest uncomfortable pause of her young life, a single rat, short and stubby and as deeply colored as the rest of them, cleared his throat at a level nearly deafening and growled, "What are you all staring at? You have things to do, families to care for. Step to it."

Quickly, almost too quickly, the bustle resumed. If the rats had been humans Luxa would have guessed them to be embarrassed and trying to cover up the fact, but them not being humans only left her perplexed and amazingly grateful at the single rat, who, after casting a final few, disdainful glares in the directions of a couple straggling gapers, slowly crossed the street distance to stand in front of her.

"Your Majesty," he growled courteously, bowing in a bow low enough to prove loyal yet not exaggerated and sarcastic. Regaining his height, he cast an obvious eye around the square once more before returning it to her. "Forgive me, but it would be my observation that you do not usually take to the gnawer section of your city to visit on your many strolls."

Momentarily frozen, Luxa recovered, and addressed the rat with a polite nod and a small, forced smile. "Indeed, correct are you. This time, however, my mind set itself to wandering, and apparently so did my feet."

The rat dipped his head up and down once to show his understanding. "It happens often to one with an active and intuitive mind. However, your majesty, I would ask that you exercise a slight bit more caution. Here," he motioned around them, towards the stalls and the buildings and the rats still glancing occasionally in their direction discreetly, "you are in relatively friendly hands. For the most part. In other places, you may take care to find that we rats can turn kindness into hostility with the quickness of a flier."

Luxa digested the words for a long moment in silence, still slightly captivated by the bustle around them. Running over them once again in her mind to understand their full meaning, she saw the reasoning behind the words and smiled wider. "Thank you. I apologize, for your name is unknown to me."

"Slydevil, your majesty," the rat replied, with a rodent equivalent of a very cunning and mischievous grin. "I caution you, your majesty, they name me well. You must be on constant alert for my tricks."

"I am sure," Luxa replied evenly with him with an empty chuckle, acknowledging in her mind the fact that he was several times her body mass below the waist alone, and that had he ever found the need to dispose of her he wouldn't need his mind to do it.

A second later, though, the harsh coating to the rat's fur flashed into her mind, and both smile and laugh disappeared from her expression. Her gaze fell to the ground, and words slurred themselves from her mouth without her free will. "I am grievously sorry for the loss. Please, know that I feel it just as much as you."

Mirroring her action, Slydevil's snout visibly drooped low as it swung towards the ground. "Indeed. Thank you, your majesty, it is greatly appreciated. And, believe me, if there is anyone who feels the Lord Ripred's departure any more than we gnawers, it is you and the Overlander. You have far more in common with and were so much more well acquainted with him than us."

A quick and awkward silence instantly dropped between them. Both gnawer and human kept their gazes squarely locked upon the ground, reluctant to continue the conversation but hating the silence even more. Finally, spurred on only by the need to find something besides pain to speak of, Luxa caught onto the subject and delved right back into another source of her pain. "Forgive me, friend Slydevil, but you just referenced the Overlander. By chance, would you happen to know his whereabouts?"

Slydevil, anxious and relieved that a change had come about without his making, raised his head once more and regarded her with a thoughtful gaze as he scratched at his chin with a dull set of claws. "Precisely, your majesty, I do not. The Overlander has made it a point to include us in council discussions as much as humans, of course meaning no disrespect to you, and with our humblest gratitude. Therefore, while we do not have a precise location to give you, it is common knowledge that he is spending a great amount of his time in the main training arena."

Before he had even finished his explanation, Luxa was already setting off back up the street, heading off in the direction she believed the arena to be in. Looking back over her shoulder, she called, "I must hasten then. Thank you again, Skydevil. Know you I shall in future tidings."

"And I you, your majesty," called back the blackened rat as he disappeared behind his identical fellows.

It took her a long time to find her way out of the rat district again, and, true to Slydevil's warnings, some of the roads she had to pass upon contained occupants that looked none too friendly, and it took her a great effort to keep from running harshly away at the first sight of them. Never would she admit it to anyone, but she felt quite naked whenever a blade did not rest at her side or in her hand. It wasn't a fact totally unreasonable, but it was a quality that was most uneasy in a queen: to a monarch, a constant sword was not a sign of peace.

Once she had finally managed to navigate her way back into familiar surroundings, however, it took only a few quick minutes of walking for her to twist and twine through the streets to the arena, the one place in the entire city Luxa had really ever felt at home in as a child. Aside from a few anxious comments and questions and a single halting by a strict but breakable guard, she made it there uneventfully and peacefully, damaging neither her health nor the raw bruise growing in her mind.

On any given day in Regalia, the arena was usually packed full of soldiers and spectators either working on their skills or watching those who worked upon them from down below or high above. Drills and swords flashed chaotically against and around each other, and dances of violent, artificial action filled the air and spectrum, making both a beautiful and heart-breaking panorama of preparation to the onlookers.

Today, however, it was almost entirely devoid of life. Archery stands stood blank and lonely. Sword shards scattered themselves hectically across the practice fields. The intense voices of generals and instructors were absent from the air, replaced by an ominous silence that dominated with no relinquishing deities. Not even bored citizens filled the stands. All of them, Luxa reasoned, were too busy preparing for war or helping in the effort to really care about training or watching training at the moment.

There was only one occupant today.

In the far corner at the long end of the field, the bloodball cannons were set up, three pointing towards the centroid of their triangle. Even at a distant approach down the stands and to the beginning of the field, Luxa could tell that they were set on automated sequence, firing their load, fifteen balls, at a certain interval. They looked lonely, out of place, tiny in significance. So did the user in the middle of them all.

Gregor was stripped to the waist, revealing hard-cut muscle and scars alike. His trousers and boots were colored a deep black, however, and they did much to convey his mindset. He was kneeling on his left side, his right leg thrust out in front of him in the form of a sharp "7". His back was straight, making his chest and head perfectly perpendicular to the ground. His arms were held out directly in front of him, crisscrossed. In his right hand, stretched across to the left side of his body, he held a fierce-looking sword by backhand. (By the hilt and shaft beginning it looked like the make of a scimitar, but its blade was snapped at a short point shortly down its length, and so she could not be positive.) On his left hand, stretched across to the right, he was extending two fingers and resting the flat end of the blade upon them. His eyes looked fused shut, but his gaze was perfectly peaceful and concentrated. Across his chest and pants, gritting his messy hair and sliming the length of his sword.

Minus the bloodlike liquid, it was a beautiful view, handsome and elegant, and Luxa would have given anything to freeze herself at that perfect scene for just a little while longer. But still her steps carried her forward, and still his peaceful face beckoned her on.

She crossed the field slowly, trying to use soft footfalls and if at all possible prevent him from knowing she was there. It would be better to surprise him unknowingly rather than he discover her and try to escape, as she suspected he would if she confronted him outright.

Still, even despite all her caution, she was still a good thirty feet from the cannon ring when Gregor, not opening his eyes or changing his stance in the slightest, called out blindly, "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Luxa halted directly in her tracks. She cursed herself in her mind at incompetence, and quickly tried to think up a reply that wouldn't unnerve him. Standing up straighter, she replied in barely more than a whisper, "Howard believes my condition is strengthening greatly. It should only be a few more days before I'm released."

Gregor, still retaining his strange form, nodded his head once an inch low and then high. Not even trembling in his stillness, she heard him take deep breaths as she arrived at the edge of the far cannon. He didn't seem to be in the mood for talk, but she was and she needed to, and she decided that she would have to press him until he said what she wanted to hear.

But just at that moment the cannons fired.

Instead of the casual short pause between bursts, each cannon fired its five bloodballs at once, something that surprised Luxa so much she took a step back. Gregor, obviously expecting this and unperturbed, didn't hesitate or stumble. In an amazingly fluidic motion that blurred Luxa's vision to no avail, the Overlander swung out of the kneel with a flier's agility and swung around to each cannon in turn, the scimitar a massive arc of motion as it twisted its way around his head, deflecting and destroying bloodballs faster than her eyes could register.

Not two seconds later, it was over. Luxa stood behind the same cannon, her arms raised only slightly ahead of her with alarm. Gregor was rigidly tall, standing in the spot he had previously been upon kneeling. His left hand still grasped the sword, newly coated with the sickly liquid of the balls. His breathing hadn't changed in the brief exertion, and for a moment he opened his eyes, not moving his head as they darted around to examine his performance as Luxa did herself.

It was a perfect score, to her slight surprise. Only the best could do the cannons at the highest speed setting, which Gregor was on, and even they only achieved five or six at the best. He had just hit perfect. He was a rager, it was true, but she hadn't expected even that of him.

He, on the other hand, gave no hint of surprise, only a slight grunt as he turned again to resume his kneeling position on the ground, waiting for the next cycle of shots, which would presumably fire in a short amount of time.

Amazed and slightly offended by Gregor's ignorance, Luxa walked closer and said, "You just hit perfect."

"I'm aware."

Rebuked and growing furious, she retorted, "You should not speak to me in that manner. Especially because I am a queen."

"I apologize, your majesty." His tone was emotionless, much like his face, and just staring down at his closed eyes almost broke Luxa's heart. Ethically, she shouldn't have even been there feeling what she was at the moment, but something about the way he was disregarding her egged her on, and she was forced forward by an unseen force of anger and pain.

"Why do you speak like so?" she growled harshly. "Hostility will not help you here, and to me you have no reason to be hostile." He didn't reply, only maintained his stubborn posture. Anger boiling inside her like a cave fire, Luxa lost her control and abruptly screamed, "Overlander! You will speak to me!"

Physically, he remained perfectly unfazed by her outburst. After a short pause, the cannons fired again. Like before, Luxa stepped back, though only to remove herself from the way instead of from surprise. Also the same as the first time, Gregor launched to his feet and sliced cleanly through all fifteen projectiles as they hurtled for his face. Once more gauging his performance quickly, he knelt back onto a knee and resumed the same damned stance as before.

But, as he mentally calmed himself again, she caught the words that slipped past his tongue out in her direction. " 'Overlander'. Not 'Gregor'."

She realized her mistake as she heard him utter it. So careless, so horrible. How could she have let that slip through? Was that really what she thought of him as? Definitely not. He was far more that that, obviously. Far more than anyone she had ever known before, in her mind, in her heart, everywhere. But now she wasn't sure anymore, because of one little slip.

Taking a few breaths to get calmed herself, Luxa shuddered once at the deep and disturbing thoughts near the back of her mind, then looked up to find him unchanged in his place. "I am sorry, Gregor. It was only anger."

"Of course." He didn't share the reason in her explanation. That much was obvious from the bland and sarcastic tone in his voice.

Struggling to hold back the wave of emotions trying to break to the surface, she gritted her teeth and tried not to snarl, "Please, believe me. I did not mean anything by it. Please."

He didn't reply, only waited solemnly for any continuation. She waited, unwilling to break the silence before he. When the awkward pause stretched into stupid quiet, she had to force herself from blurting out a dumb comment or two. She didn't understand why it was so hard to speak to him, the one she had loved for so long. She didn't even remember what she wanted to learn from conversation with him. What was going on with her military? She didn't really care about it any more. What had happened to Ripred? That subject was complete and pained. He was dead; that was all she needed to know. Maybe she had just wanted to hear Gregor's voice, to let her know that he was still there and he still loved her.

But she wasn't sure of either of those points anymore.

The cannons went off again. Gregor quickly dispersed the collection of balls from each other with a perfect score once more and then immediately fell back to one knee, not even observing the number he hit this time. And the silence moved on, making her wonder whether or not she would ever get another reply out of him.

Once she noticed the scars nastily decorating the right side of his neck, though, she couldn't resist her compulsion to speak any longer, and found herself asking uneasily, "You did not receive those cuts on your neck while you were in the Underland last time. How receive you of them?"

She watched him consider her words without opening his eyes, swallowing twice convulsively as he thought. After a moment, his reply came in an audible whisper. "It's kind of a long story."

Evenly, quickly, she responded, "I would like to hear it."

"I wouldn't like to tell it." His harsh tone once again rebuked her, surprising her with its bluntness and cruelty. It crushed her. This was still her Gregor, the one she loved and would always love, but he was warped in a way into something she didn't want to see, the evil image of what could happen when a life turns to horror. It was as if the boy she knew had turned into a man who locked away his past life, for fear that it would come to destroy him.

"Gregor," she pleaded, her voice finally breaking from regal confidence to revealed emotion. "What is this? Why are you like this? This is not you, not the you that I knew those years ago. Please, come back to me. Here."

"I can never come back to you anymore. The Viceroy has seen to that."

The cannons fired for the fourth time. Short seconds later the shells of fifteen more balls covered the ground and Gregor was once more at a knee. His voice had turned bitter and sweat had begun to appear on his brow and arms. The hard muscles were held rigid and taut, and would have knocked her breathless had she been paying attention to his physique as opposed to his mind.

"Is that what that is?" Luxa replied, voice cracking. "Because of Arthur? That's all of this?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"Stuff that should never have happened. That _I_ should never have _let_ happen. Down here, up there, everywhere. This is just the final straw in the bin that's beginning to set me off."

"What are you talking about?"

"My life is gone, Luxa," Gregor moaned softly, his face betraying none of the turmoil that was engulfing his voice. "My grandmother is dead, my father is well on his way after her. My mother is depressed beyond belief, Lizzie is traumatized by violation, and Boots has no idea what the hell is going on! And I left them all to die for me, because I couldn't let anything happen to _you_!"

The rant left him heaving for breath, something not even the cannons had forced out of him before. It wasn't even silent for a moment, however, before Luxa came back with retort. "So you are blaming me?"

"No!" Gregor growled back quickly. "You don't get it. I am blaming _myself_. Nothing would have happened if I hadn't fought them so hard to stay. You would be happily marrying Arthur, I would be progressing with my life in Virginia, Boots and Lizzie would still have happy parents, and at least a few people in this world would understand me."

Taking care to consider his words carefully, Luxa quickly jumped to the one thing she found most interesting of the things she heard. "You think I will be happy when I marry Arthur?" Before he could even reply or nod his head she jumped on with a harsh laugh. "Gregor, I have not been happy in five years. I do not think that will come to change if I get married."

"You should have moved on," Gregor growled, trembling slightly as he tried to focus his concentration. "We were a world apart, probably never to see each other again."

"So should have you. We were a world apart, probably never to see each other again." She repeated his statement with the same tone.

"Yes, but you were a queen. You could have found happiness in so many more people. You shouldn't have dwelt on a stupid Overland boy that fell head over heels for you in a few days. I had nothing up there, not even you to brighten my day. And then my life went to hell, and it was all downhill from there, if that's even possible."

"Why do you never consider," Luxa almost screamed back, "that just maybe I loved you more than you loved me?"

"I was never really even sure it ran both ways. It was always so subtle it almost never existed."

"Do you really mean that?"

"No. Yes, we were in love. But we were also twelve, with so many responsibilities that we couldn't even handle our own feelings."

"Do you really believe _that_?"

Bloodballs flew from the cannons. For the fifth time, Gregor swatted them aside with the advanced skill of a warrior. This time, however, instead of dropping back to a knee once fifteen were destroyed, he pivoted around to face her. "I don't know anymore, Luxa. My mind is gone. There's only pain left. I can't think."

"Then why do you bear it alone?" Luxa asked, begging with eyes as she took several steps towards him, slightly into the ring of cannons. "You do not have to live with this by yourself, Gregor. We are here. We can help. Please, come to me. Let me bear it with you." She spoke with outstretched arms, leaning out towards him, beckoning for him and begging him to come to sanctuary within her grip.

But he only held out his empty hand in a restraining gesture, motioning for her to come no farther. Shaking his head, he said softly, "Only I can bear this. And I cannot have you to comfort me. You are no longer mine, and from what it looks like never will be again."

His words stabbed at Luxa like his scimitar, weaving its way past her defenses and lunging at the weakest points. More so than just the cold rejection was the truth behind the words, as she realized that he was in all ways correct. Someone else had her now, and not the man she wanted.

She lowered her arms, and he lowered his hand, and they stood like that, very close together yet not touching, staring mournfully into each other's eyes as they both saw the point of the other. Once more, Luxa found herself wishing she had a sword by her side. It would at least give her a better sense of safety. She was sure Gregor would never hurt her, but even the extended weight on her left side would give her a familiarity she was lacking. Besides, even though the gap had closed slightly in the five years apart, he still stood a good deal taller than her, and it was making her feel incredibly self-conscious.

In an ironic sense, the cannons chose that precise time to fire their next volley. Having been hit many times by a bloodball in her own days inside the arena, Luxa froze, waiting for their impact as the sound of their launch met her ears. But Gregor, not even removing his gaze from her face, swung the scimitar over and around her body while defending his own back at the same time. A moment later fifteen more bloodball shells joined their fellows down on the ground, and Luxa still found herself gazing into Gregor's remarkable eyes.

In them, trying to see anything of the Gregor she knew, she saw only pain, of things she didn't know, of the loss of her, of Ripred's death (which she suddenly knew he felt more than anyone; more than a gnawer, more than herself), and of unspeakable burdens and evils which she hoped he would never have to face. In the end, all she saw was a troubled and lost remnant of the person she cared for more than anyone in the world, over or under.

Searching for a topic of conversation to break the silence that didn't involve either of them or their feelings, Luxa looked around and asked, "Why even do this? This is the highest setting of this exercise, and you have mastered it. Why continue to do something you clearly can no longer improve from?"

Gregor looked away quickly, and instantly turned his back on her. Taking another breath through his nose, he slowly lowered himself back onto a knee and into his stance of preparation. Over his shoulder, he gave his explanation. "Recently, when I was in the Cutter Lair, I began to lose control over my rager abilities. Now I discover that it has nearly left me altogether. I'm relearning and refining that skill."

"Controlling the urge?" Luxa wondered aloud. "Wouldn't it be better to test that in sparring?"

"Perhaps. But this, set at the speed level it is, gives me such a short period of time to call on my instinct that I have to be exceptionally quick in trying to control it, too. It's harder than it looks, believe me."

She did, but still she persisted in her final question. "And how does this help your attempts? What are you trying to accomplish?"

"By the time I find myself trying to control it the fifteen balls are already broken. If I'm successful in clamping down on the reflex fast enough, then I should be able to resist hitting a few of them."

She didn't reply, backing up from the ring and waiting to see what happened now that she knew exactly what was supposed to be happening. When the cannons fired, Gregor exploded from his crouch as usual and swung through the shells easily. When he had ceased becoming a blur and halted to see what lay on the ground, both of them looked down to find that all fifteen had still been destroyed.

Showing none of his disappointment, Gregor once more lounged into his crouch, waiting again for the next volley. As he went, though, he called back to her, "But, beside the point, shouldn't you actually be back in bed at your castle?"

"I told you," Luxa replied, letting her gaze linger on the white scars flaming across his defined chest. They made her wince horribly and shudder, as she saw again just how much pain he had gone through for a kingdom he didn't even know or belong to. "Howard said my condition is improving. I should be out very soon."

"Then why do you come out here to walk around, weakening yourself, when you could be inside resting? Especially with the burden of his death on your shoulders and so much pain in your soul."

The question sent an arrow of anguish into her soul again, so much so that she almost doubled over in pure pain. Trying to stand straight again, it took her a moment before she could once again identify coherent thought and recognize Gregor's face. His eyes were still shut, but his mouth was twisted into a strange grimace, as if he knew and regretted just what he had caused her. Moving forward even over his reaction, Luxa replied in a bold but soft voice. "I wanted to find you."

"For what? So that you could see exactly what will be denied to you forever?" His reply was soft, and for the first time Luxa actually heard pain in his voice, as opposed to the anger and annoyance of his previous tones. "I don't think you're getting this, Luxa. You standing there and talking to me is only making this worse. It means that we have to let go of each other but we're not, and that will only add to the pain when the actual moment comes."

His words hit her heart harder than she would have thought possible, and she was blinded by emotion for a long moment. Actually believing that tears might come to her eyes after a drought of so long, she could barely see him as fatigue washed into her finally. Alerted, she managed to keep the sag out of her legs, but a groan of exhaustion escaped her lips.

Gregor probably would have noticed her pain and tiredness, except for the fact that the cannons fired again. In her weakened vision, Luxa saw him blur into motion, but she looked to the ground with a wash of vertigo before she could see him take down his adversaries.

But then there was silence, and nothing penetrated it this time. She waited for him to say something, to notice her weakened state, but nothing came. After a long moment, she looked up, expecting to find his pained and pitying gaze staring right back at her. Instead, however, his eyes were locked piercingly into something else, lying a few feet away and diagonal to his left foot.

An unbroken bloodball, shot from the second cannon.

Luxa looked back up to his face, expecting to find satisfaction or pride at his slight accomplishment of resistance, even in his fragile mental state. Instead, much to her surprise and alarm, she saw something else completely. His lips were curled down at the corners, showing a straight emotion that defied him. Contempt.

Trying to break the calm and the horrible look on his face, Luxa said aloud, "You succeeded."

Gregor sheathed his sword, and raised his head from the ball towards her own. "It was a start."

Before she could even react, he was striding out and away from the cannons, out across the field. Surprised, she turned and rushed to keep up to him, nearly tripping over her feet as she met his step midway. "Where are you going?" she cried hastily.

"Away."

"What?" Luxa screamed, anxiety creeping to the top of her voice. "Away?"

"Yes."

"What is 'Away'?"

"Away. From here."

She reached out and snared his arm in a death grip, but it did little more than make him stop in his tracks and slowly turn to face her. He didn't even quail, as she had been hoping, at the unbelievably dangerous glare she was shooting him through her fatigue. "You cannot go back up! Not now! You cannot! I need you here! Please, do not go..."

Her rant neared its extent, and as it finished she collapsed reluctantly but inevitably, her legs finally giving way beneath their exhaustion. Her grasp slipped from his arm and she careened towards the ground. Before she could hit, though, two strong arms shot out and caught her, quickly pulling her towards the warm body ahead of her.

She fell into his arms gratefully, mournfully, all of her pain at the recent events pouring out at once. So much had happened, so much would come. Not even tears could express the sorrow she felt and she knew that he felt. It was all so horrible that she could only remain mute as she felt herself being lifted softly up and into the air.

She was leaning solemnly against his shoulder, drifting somewhere in and out of consciousness in the distance. Distantly, she heard him muttering softly into her ear, "I didn't even meant that, Luxa. I'm not going anywhere. Yet. Just rest. You're safe. I'm here."

For the time being, she believed him.

She didn't know where they were on the outside, because she was too tired to even try to open her eyes. Occasionally she heard exclamations and people shouting at Gregor asking what had happened to her. He either ignored them all or gave minimal replies, moving along at a seemingly quick pace.

She wasn't sure how long he had been walking, or jogging, or sprinting, or whichever thing it was that she couldn't tell which, but abruptly whatever speed they were traveling at stopped, and from beyond comprehension a fierce voice pierced her conscious mind.

"What happened?" Howard's voice barked, coming from ahead.

"Nothing," was Gregor's reply, his tone clear.

"Do not insult me! This is----"

"Nothing happened!" Gregor roared in a whisper. "She is tired, that is all. She came to find me and exhausted herself. Now, if you'll excuse me, she needs to get to bed."

She heard the brief noise of rustling and jostling, and narrow-mindedly she wondered what Howard's face looked like. After a moment beyond that, however, she found herself being lowered upon a soft feeling material; her bed back in the room of the infirmary wing. She didn't want him to let go of her, wanted to feel eternally safe in his arms, but they relinquished her almost too easily, and another stab of pain went through her soul. At the same time, however, she distantly caught the sound of the sheets being rustled slightly, and then she felt a light, warm pressure on her forehead as Gregor pressed his lips lovingly there.

"I'm here," he whispered lightly. "Don't ever worry. I'm here."

But, as she felt the pressure retreat, she wasn't sure if she could truly believe him. In her soul, where there had once flowed confidence and beautiful arrogance and love come there seemed only to be pain.

Pain and brutal anguish, for fallen comrades and lost friends.

And, as she slipped into unconsciousness, she truly wondered if she even wanted to wake up again.


	20. 19: Dead End

**...Seraphania (x2), Ailat, Castaway5, november21, urbanrhapz, and shadowblade546... ...best people on earth... ...and beyond...**

**A lot of emotion in this entire part, I'm afraid. May get tedious, but... oh, well, it may get tedious. Anyhoo, welcome to chapter 18. Feel free to flame and criticize and burn in effigy, but also, Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill.**

**19**

**Dead End**

When she opened her eyes again, Luxa found herself alone in the coldness of her room, silent and serene and solemn and so many other things that ended in empty and dark sadness.

She didn't have the will to move. Energy was a different matter, but she didn't know either way. Her hair was splayed all across her face from a rollover she had made in deep sleep, but she didn't even have the mind to reach up a hand and brush it away.

Slowly, the events of the previous day, or at least the last time she had been knowingly conscious, played out before her mind's eye. As vision after vision of the ordeal, Gregor fighting, Gregor beating, Gregor rejecting, her heart broke a little more, and finally it turned into clear, physical pain, and made her moan aloud. She felt like a child again, waking up from a horrible dream, crying out softly for her mother to come and protect her from the evils of the world.

But her mother wasn't there, nor her father. Ripred was dead, gone, removed permanently from her life by the final, barely targeted swipe of a claw. Arthur she didn't even want, Vikus was far too busy, Hazard was oblivious, and at the moment she couldn't even bring herself to call for Howard. There was vast, horrible turmoil in her soul, and deep down she knew that nothing could bring her out of the deep, clawing pain.

Not even Gregor.

She didn't know how long she lied there, drowning in agony and anguish and losing herself amongst the deepest, darkest horrors of her memory. She felt utterly emotionless, only as opposed to that feeling of the past few days, now there was nearly nothing left of good in her soul.

Love. Caring. Joy.

They were all washed away carelessly as angst and hate filled their place, more swiftly and cruelly than she could even begin to fight. As she cared less and less the sights on the screen of her tormenting brain moved quicker and quicker, throwing into them a strange mixture of all the terrible happenings of the past, from the longest years ago to the most recent occurrences. Everything mashed together to form one bleak mass of pain.

After enough time had passed in this horrible agony for her to lose track of it, in the distance of her hearing she heard the veil being drawn softly aside to her room. Light, firm, practiced footsteps entered the room slowly, and the curtain was drawn immediately pack over the passage to the tunnels beyond as the person turned to face her bed.

She managed to turn herself over onto a side facing the doorway, although it actually caused her drastically weakened muscles physical pain to do so. When she had finally gained a sight upon her visitor, she saw not her grandfather, or her chosen brother, or her love. It was only Howard, coming to check upon her, as he had done so often in the general week of her confinement. Besides looking somehow even more tired than he regularly did, the young doctor seemed much the same as he always did. He offered her a small smile as he crossed the room and lowered himself slowly and easily onto the side of her bed.

Resting a light hand on her forehead, he took hers with his other and whispered as quietly as he could, "How do you feel?"

Luxa didn't bring herself to answer, only lifted her gaze to meet his weakly. Their separate stares collided with a knowing tinge, and she expressly hoped that hers could convey exactly what she was feeling, physically, emotionally, and mentally. She really didn't know if she had the words to explain herself aloud.

Howard, at least, seemed to understand from her solemn stare exactly what he wanted to know, for his grin turned into a rough grimace almost instantly. "That bad, eh?"

Slowly, Luxa lifted her head up and down once, which really translated to left and right as she lay sideways against the scratchy sheets of her infirmary bed. She offered a light squeeze on his hand, but it was more to tell him that she was at least still alive as opposed to the offer of any comfort.

He nodded back, offering his understanding. He then groaned and coughed once, then swallowed as he prepared for what she recognized as his gentle interrogation technique on an injured or incapacitated patient. "Gregor... would not explain to me what transpired between the two of you this morning when you departed on your walk. Perhaps you would care to tell me exactly what happened? What did he..."

"Nothing, Howard," Luxa croaked out painfully, her lips cracking at the far edges as she spoke. "He did nothing. He would never... he would not hurt me, ever. He is not evil. It was only I, and I alone. It was just fatigue, I promise to you."

Howard regarded her for a moment with an extensively skeptical eye, but after a moment Luxa managed to stare him back down with a regal glare, and even in her state it was sharp enough to send her cousin running for protection behind invisible defenses. Dropping his gaze away, he changed his subject. "I apologize in advance, but... do you feel well enough to go out once more today?"

Luxa tried to sit up, and, although it took a serious effort that resulted in Howard assisting her, she managed to do eventually succeed. Straightening to the form of a perfect queen, she replied, "Why do you ask?"

Howard deepened his gaze into the opposite direction. "The council has... arranged for Ripred's cremation to take place in only three hours time. They deem it necessary to pay him respects in a secret ceremony, separated from all of the public except for the highest of representatives. The Viceroy seems to find it essential that you should attend."

It took a long moment for Luxa's tired mind to make sense of Howard's words, but once she had she noticed no pang of regret shoot through her soul. The burning of her bond should have evoked some sort of response from her heart, but waiting for it she did not feel any such thing come, and she wondered about it. After another long moment she reasoned mournfully that her spirit had dropped to its ultimate low, and that going down any farther was impossible, resulting in a mindless comprehension range that only told her what she had without heart and nothing else.

A silence climbed into the room, and eventually Luxa realized that she had yet to respond to Howard's words. Running her mind quickly over the options, she wondered what good might come out of her attending the ceremony. Ripred may have wanted her to be there when he was ushered into nonexistence. She would see Arthur, Vikus, maybe Gregor. A bit of fresher air might help her body rejuvenate.

But also there was the event of seeing Ripred's peaceful yet permanently deformed face disappear in flames, and then lose all hope whatsoever of happiness ever again, which was the only thing still keeping her heart pumping the blood in her veins. At the same time as she considered chaos, however, she knew that she couldn't bring herself to say goodbye to Ripred through their very final conversation, over a time period so long ago, before she had been kidnapped to the Lair. He had scolded her on leading the defense of the castle herself, and she had rejected his claims and points without consideration. It was a horrible way to remember him, and it was not the way she wanted her final memory to go with him.

So, with a heavy heart and even heavier voice, she agreed to attend the funeral of her treasured bond.

Howard, with strong arms, lifted her lightly from the bed and set her even more gently upon her feet. Still clothed in the garb she had searched for Gregor in, she was suitable for travel throughout the labyrinth of the city. While she didn't believe it was formal enough for such a thing as a cremation, Howard did not point the fact out, and so she didn't press her mind to juggle the thought on top of everything else.

She didn't pay much attention as he led her back through the palace, leading her out of the infirmary wing and moving her down several corridors. As they began to ascend towards the upper levels, where the funeral pyres stood on extended balconies, he picked her up softly off her feet and carried her until they reached level ground again.

She noticed only slightly as they opened up out of an archway onto an outside walkway of finely chiseled stone. She was only mildly aware of when Howard directed her far away from the rail and steered her around several bends.

When they opened up finally onto the balcony of Ripred's final physical moments upon the world, however, Luxa found that she was perfectly alert to her surroundings, and that her body suddenly awakened gigantically, shocking all her muscles into action. She suddenly found herself walking forward out of Howard's arms on her own perfect power, as her mind struggled to process the visual of the scene.

There were very few occupants. She immediately recognized Ambassador Chrex of the spinners and Themp of the crawlers, lounging close next to each other on the far end of the balcony, separated completely from the other delegates and attendees. There was a nibbler representative, and Luxa was surprised to note that Athena, the queen of the fliers, along with a number of her closest advisors, had taken the time and journey to witness the mourning event. She was currently deep in a seemingly subtle and grim conversation with Vikus, who was standing towards the front of the congregation. Next to him but facing away was Arthur. Both humans were garbed solely in robes of deep ebony, although Arthur's also carried a hint of deep crimson along the sleeve. Standing a short distance away was a great congregation of soot-covered gnawers, all perfectly solemn and silent and staring directly at the pyre near the end of the platform. Of them all Luxa regretted to see that she only recognized the head of them, Spearteeth, from where he stood at the head. An unfamiliar human stood ahead of all the parties, although Luxa assumed that he was simply the minister to perform the ceremony in significantly human fashion. Beyond him, though, the final member and, in Luxa's interpretation, most important member of the party, stood facing the pyre with a sheer frigidness and disbelief that she knew it could only be one.

Gregor's back was to her, but she had dreamed of him and known him for long enough to pick him easily out of a crowd only by his posture. She couldn't see his face, but she could clearly depict the way his features were distorted in rage and pain and ignorance. His clothes, like so many others' there, were completely black, although in his case the harsh, dark color of his hair added to the effect. An overcoat hid any of his bulk, and all of the scene did little to ease her pain.

She utterly refused to look past him, to see the body that lay upon the black stone beyond.

As she made her way forward, Arthur looked up and saw her. He didn't smile, but his features automatically softened, and he stepped towards her just as she walked up. Reaching out an arm to pull her ever so lightly against his overly warm body, he whispered into her ear, "Good. We are about to begin. We were only waiting upon your arrival."

She nodded her head swiftly, but before she could even fathom a reply the minister at the head of everything reached his hands into the air and clapped crisply twice. Gathering the quick attention of all, he lowered his arms down once again and called out in an overly grave voice, "Please, we are ready to begin. Find your places."

Arthur took her by the arm before she could think of where to move, and abruptly she found herself being led away. Vikus went with them, although Howard did not, relinquishing his cousin to her betrothed's care. Instead, he surprised her, as she gazed back over her shoulder at him, by walking directly away to stand beside Gregor ahead of the entire congregation. The Overlander hadn't moved at the minister's announcement, and gave no sign of it. Howard, as he arrived, placed a hand on Gregor's shoulder. It was not, however, to force him into compliance. It was only for comfort, something that surprised Luxa profoundly.

As Arthur led her to her standing position (long ago the cremations of Underlanders had been held upon two feet instead of in seats), the minister regarded the two standing behind him with a look of annoyance. After a moment, however, it was clear that neither would be moving anytime soon, and he groaned slightly before turning to the audience and beginning his solemn speech.

As he did so, a rat stepped out from the group and began to relay them the same message in gnawer language:

"It is not often in time that members of five races all come together to honor a single memory of a person. Never in our history have we taken the care to write down such an occurrence, but never shall we be able to forget this such one...

"We come together to remember Ripred the gnawer Lord, perhaps the great savior and peacemaker spoken of in Bartholomew of Sandwich's ancient prophecies..."

Luxa found herself no longer listening to the mourning sermon gradually over time. As she leaned slightly against Arthur's uncomfortable arm, her mind was drifting farther and farther away into memory, back into times long past, where things had occurred which she could barely remember. Flashes of the past where Ripred wasn't even considered a friend came about, back when he had first become acquainted with her and the Overlander. Images of the countless times when he had been able to save all of their lives when no one else had kept careening ahead. Even clearer were the deep reveries of the past five years, when they had shared a remarkable bond unknown to the allied world at the time, when he had become more than friend or a mentor to her. The fierce remembrances sent daggers deep into her soul, but she couldn't fight them off nor beg them to stop, for their bearers were unseen forces of deep sorrow that she would never have the strength nor the will to fight off.

She tried not to observe the body lying atop the pyre, but she found she couldn't resist the impulse. Ripred's fur had been carefully cleaned, leaving not a trace of blood or sweat left on his body. The wounds that she knew he had sustained in his final battle had been sewn shut carefully, licking clear the scars of so many battles. Still there stayed the cross of cuts across his face, however, that marked him as the supposed peacemaker of the Underland. Beneath them, she saw his face, which now strangely looked more peaceful than she had ever seen it in life.

He was with his long lost family, whether he believed that true or not.

Anxious to look away from so horrible a sight, Luxa found her gaze lingering on Gregor. She still couldn't get a clear look at his face, but she could tell that he was beginning to tremble in something akin to rage and horror. She knew that she dreaded what was inside his soul and mind, but at the moment she wanted nothing more than to go to him and have him open up to her about anything and everything.

Abruptly, she suddenly realized that the preacher had cut off his dialogue, and, snapping back to reality, she further discovered that the entire eulogy was complete. A pair of gnawers were bearing torches towards the wood stacked beneath Ripred's body.

A moment later, they were returning to their fellows, and the body of her longtime mentor, friend, and so much more was set ablaze.

They watched him burn in silence. She looked at no one, fearing that her composure would shatter if she did. She wondered distantly whether or not they were experiencing as deep a pain as she was at the moment. She was pretty sure Arthur would not, as he had known Ripred for barely a fraction of his life. She knew she would have seen a great deal of pain in Vikus, and a great portion in Howard. But above all, she thought that just perhaps the turmoil in the young man standing next to her cousin might have overlapped her own.

The flesh began to char away, and the flames spread to the internal items below. Bowing his eyes in appropriate dourness, Chrex aroused herself on all eight legs and promptly began to head for the platform's exiting walkways. Shortly after her crawler counterpart followed, and then the minister. After another few long moments, Athena lifted her head to the distant cavern roof and emitted a high-pitched shriek of respect in a pitch too high for any of the humans to hear. The rats cringed slightly, but the other fliers gave no sign of discomfort. Lowering her head once more, the queen turned slowly and spread wings to the sky, preparing for a departure after making a swift, grim nod of the head to Vikus. Taking to the sky as she furled under the air, she took off in a great gust that wavered the flames, followed close behind by her kin.

For a while afterwards, no one else moved. The body began to turn utterly to ashes as any organic tissue was devoured by the flames. Unable to watch the spectacle any longer, Howard removed his hand from Gregor's shoulder and quietly departed.

A few moments later, the rats began to bow down very close to the ground in deep respect and admiration for their fallen leader before dragging themselves horribly away. After just another couple of minutes, only two of them, Spearteeth and the translator, remained.

As more and more time passed the fire began to die away, and Arthur began to lead her out and away from the scene. Vikus followed shortly behind, leaving only Gregor and the two rats to continue observation.

They walked away, back in the direction of the council chambers as opposed to the infirmary wing as Luxa had been expecting. Her gaze was kept locked squarely on the floor, mourning and grieving and any other way it could be explained. It took her several long moments to decide upon anything she felt obligated to do. Eventually, though, she only found herself wondering of one single person in the entire city, and how they were coping with recent struggles.

She lightly shrugged away from Arthur, and when he turned to her surprised she took his hand softly and muttered, "I need some time alone. To think."

He didn't argue, only nodded. Something flashed extremely briefly in his eyes, but she was too preoccupied to take much notice of it. Her hold of his hand quickly disappeared, and he pulled away himself to follow Vikus as they descended a long flight of stairs down to a lower level.

Luxa waited until she could no longer hear their steps before she began to make her way back. She struggled back up the path alone, but she was determined to be successful, and so with a great difficulty she finally managed to find her way back into the general area of the pyre.

Instead of coming out upon its platform, however, she emerged from the palace once more onto a much smaller balcony which overlooked it from around twenty feet above, giving her a perfect vantage point of observing its contents, which played out below much like she had expected them to.

The two rats had finally gone, leaving only one sole occupant of the burning ground. The flames on the pyre had burned down to a low crackling mass, having run out of things to burn and leaving only a pile of hard ashes where there had once rested a treasured friend. Ripred had requested several times that he burn and be left to the wind for his resting place. His wishes were being honored.

Gregor hadn't moved once since she had arrived on the platform the first time. He still stood rooted to the same spot, staring down at where his fellow rager had previously been lying. Luxa could observe his face from her current angle finally, and, although he was trembling visibly, it didn't seem that he looked too distraught.

But, as she watched, he roughly took two stumbling steps forward, and then another three. Under her scrutinizing gaze he lunged ahead until he was directly ahead of the pyre, where, after standing rigid for a moment, he fell hard upon his knees at the ashes of his gnawer comrade.

Her heart broke profusely when she saw a shining tear roll down his cheek. She felt it shatter when a sob escaped him. And she nearly collapsed herself when she saw him double over completely as the weeping racked all over his body. It took her breath away for her to see him so broken, so reduced, so destroyed, and deep down in her soul she screamed out to herself and to all pleading for the answer as to how such a thing could have happened.

But mostly, in what was left of her slim emotions, she wondered why she didn't cry with him.


	21. 20: Cross My Heart

**Stupendousness and outrageously large amounts of gratitude to laxxgoal31, stephanie (x2), november21, Castaway5, shadowblade546, and your servant.**

**Emotional woe and the lot. Enjoy chapter 20, if you dare (or can).**

**Disclaimer: If... Maybe... That... Hey... No.**

**20**

**Cross My Heart**

It seemed that things could only get worse.

Only the next day after the funeral, Arthur convinced the council without even informing Luxa that their wedding day, scheduled for over eight months in advance, would instead be moved immediately forward to a date in only six days time.

She didn't even have to wonder why that bothered her. Before the obvious recent predicament, she had been incredibly anxious to have the wedding come as fast as it could, secretly hoping that it would blot out the painful memories of the past yet not exactly wanting it. She wanted nothing more than to move on and try to forget and perhaps have a family that she could love and serve as queen.

Now, however, Gregor had returned to the Underland, and everything shifted perspective.

She couldn't call off the wedding. What it meant between the people of Regalia and citizens at the Fount was something that she couldn't break without retaliation, whether intentional or unintentional and hurtful or none. It was something for the people she served that gave her so much, and, even as her heart screamed for intervention, she couldn't bring herself to halt the event.

But still, Gregor was there. Gregor was _here_. And it had reignited her heart and soul and mind in ways she had never imagined anyone, not even him, could. Now she was torn horribly in half, caught inexorably between her duty and her love. After Ripred's cremation he had done a good job of staying away from her, managing to disappear quickly any time she took the opportunity to search for him. Even after she was finally released from the infirmary in another two days she found that he managed to wake long before she could and vanish from his chambers, only to return at some hour after she had retired for the evening.

She didn't know what was going on in his mind. His agony was blinding, but beyond that his feelings were hidden from her, and she no longer knew whether or not he loved her just as much as she loved him. It choked up her throat just to think of the possibility that they might be separated again, after all of the time they hadn't found each other together. She knew somewhere inside her that he wouldn't leave his family behind above, and there would soon come a confrontation that would either result in horrible chaos or tainted endings. Either way, it would prove grim for everyone, and even if Luxa received what she desired in the choice she didn't know if it would quench the river of her pain.

In the end, though, after hours of contemplation lying wide awake in her bed the night she learned of the change in plans, Luxa's struggling mind and soul couldn't bring herself to interrupt the tidings. She wasn't selfish enough to do so. But she wished she was.

And still there were six days to the wedding. Six days until her life changed forever. Six days to right the wrongs that would plague her until her death if she did not succeed. Six days to decide which was better: a correct life, or a happy life.

Yet what was a happy life in the equation?

Luxa rolled over on her sheets, so exhausted in mind and body yet not capable of shutting her eyes and letting such errant and desired thoughts to escape into oblivion for the morning's thoughts. From the other room she could hear Arthur's breathing and slight snore even through a distant doorway and thin stone wall, and it only convinced her farther to rouse herself in the darkness of night.

They had agreed long ago, at the beginning of their engagement, to share quarters in the palace, but Ripred, playing a very convincing part of the overly protected bond, wouldn't allow them to sleep with each other, and had made it a point of extracting a promise from Arthur not to do so until they were married. He trusted Luxa, at least. For the most part.

Against her soft pillow, Luxa's lips curved into a reluctant smile, but no sooner had it come than did it dissolve, washed away amongst a wave of regret and longing. She quickly fought away the memory of an insistent Ripred, before the wishing he were there part could affect itself into existence.

Washing away sorrow with little effort, Luxa swiftly threw away her covers, careful to keep them silent and not awake Arthur. She was not in the mood for sleep, but she was even more opposed to the thought of a late-night conversation about grief with her unwanted betrothed. Such a thing would only increase the unknown tension on their strenuous relationship.

Pulling her sleeping gown closely around her in the cool evening air, Luxa climbed from the bed and stepped off towards the window, where the faint light of the city torches flooded in through the gloom.

So many had told her the relatively safe return of her to the palace and city was creating an unbelievable increase in morale amongst the citizens. By her eyes, however, the city actually looked more dismal than ever. It wasn't even her imagination, either.

Out of her solid window, she could see the buildings in the distant, lights all extinguished but for a few far and in between each other, where anxious fathers and nervous mothers stayed up late trying to make a sense of their failing or promising professions. The glow of the lights, however, which Luxa had always previously been able to describe as "cheery", now seemed to only radiate despair. It almost hurt for her to gaze out at her city and see the way it appeared to her now, but at the same time a distant part of her mind forced her to lock her gaze there instead. It imprinted a permanent image in her remembering mind of the way things could change in a hurry.

Grimly, she climbed atop the cold sill of the window, rejoicing in the freezing feeling it sent shimmering and sliding through her veins as she tried to find the most distracting, uncomfortable position possible. Settling herself with her back against one of the sides and dangling her left leg dangerously over a sharp drop down, she leaned her head back and tried to think of anything except the man who was most likely either wandering her city's streets or sleeping in a room twenty-four windows to her left and fourteen down, and also the gnawer whose ashes were now scattered across half of Regalia. Unfortunately for her, in her attempts of ignorance both seemed to pop up in double size in her reluctant mind, and she found herself considering scenarios in which life was perfect, and she had both Gregor and Ripred back.

She wondered deep in her mind what would have happened if both of them had been still alive when she woke up from a deep unconsciousness in the infirmary, already standing there with wide grins on their faces. She wondered if they would have understood how she felt then, what she had been through and what they were forced to fight against in order to get her back. She wondered if they would have chosen her fate differently than what she was soon to go through for the good of so many, and to cause the pain of so few.

Maybe they would have insisted that the wedding was no longer necessary. Gregor was there, and she would marry him instead, and then they would live long, beautiful lives together with three children just like she had always dreamed of as a very small girl, and she be there every single day of eternity to help him carefully wash all of the blood away from his hands...

But she instantly snapped out of that reverie, turning instantly to what would really have happened instead of what she hoped beyond hope could have happened.

Ripred would still have urged her to go on with the wedding, knowing how much it would mean to the Fount, and Gregor, no matter what his heart told him, would go along with his mentor and insist that she forget about him. Then he would return to the Overland again, probably this time never to see her ever again, and she would live out a regretful life with Arthur that would eventually lead to fiery destruction for the entire Underland human population...

Snapping up again in her place, she shook her head hard in anxiety, sending all of her silky hair fraying to and fro around her head. It really didn't do her well to think of desired and potential futures this late in the night. It led her to conclusions that were neither plausible nor justified, and it truly scared her that she was angry and mournful enough to come up with such things.

Shifting most of the weight in her body to her right side, away from the ledge that would plummet her almost certainly to her death, Luxa turned her face out towards the distant lights of the rat district. As was their tradition, fires on their roofs burned long in the night, a lonely reminder of their continued grieving for their fallen lord. By their light, she could even catch the outlines of a few harsh backs as they tended to their grieving symbolism.

Luxa knew that the humans of the city felt too little over his passing. Almost nothing, actually. None of her kin had ever liked the rat, or at the very most previous few, and she knew that only herself and her family felt his loss as much as every one of them should. Only Vikus and her grandmother, Solovet, had believed in his good intentions from the beginning, even before she, and his origins by species had always marked him out of the good side before the war amongst humans, and forever prejudiced him among many. The plain, hard truth of the matter, though, was that Ripred helped her through a horrible period in her life, the time after Gregor had left for the first time, when she was a barely-powerful twelve-year old queen who was lost in romantic agony. He had gotten her to get through it with dignity and pride and pulled her from the storm that was that fire with the increased vigilance of a future queen. But nobody ever saw that.

And now he was gone, taken from her by creatures of little evil and leaving her in a similar but worse situation as when he had helped her years before. Only now, who would come to her aid, when she needed it even more than before?

Her thoughts turned to Arthur. He seemed much more pleased about their wedding and its arrangements than Luxa, although she could easily presume that the reason for this was because Arthur had yet to meet the one whom he was obligated above all else to spend the rest of his life. Even if he didn't yet know it, she was positive that she was not this person for him. Her man was in another room close by, twenty-four windows to her left and fourteen down.

Groaning in exhaustion and confusion, Luxa asked herself if Arthur was under the illusion that he was in love with her. She doubted it, because he was incredibly subtle, nearly nonexistent, with his minimal advances towards her, even though they had been labeled clearly as future consorts. At the most, she reasoned, his feelings for her were that of a strong friend. Still, though, he wouldn't let go of her very easily.

Or at all.

Why was love so complicated? Why did everything have to lead back to her? Ripred's bond, Gregor's unrevealed love, the Viceroy's unsure commitment----the final segments of each rope were all tied together at her point in space, and it was really beginning to anger her. Being a queen was supposed to be dealing with the people and their problems. Why, all of a sudden, did she find that she could think of nothing and effectively deal with nothing but herself? Why did she never learn that her own faults would come into play just as much as those mistakes of her people would?

_There are things that one can only learn on a life path. Dumb teachers have forgotten them, inadequate educators do not know them, and the wise instructors know that it is best for someone to learn them on their own._

That was an ancient peace of gnawer wisdom that Ripred had taken care to quote to her several dozen times in their five years bonded. It was one of the few things she found useful of everything the gnawers ever said, but now, sitting on a cold ledge, lost deep inside her feelings, she finally realized exactly what the words meant.

In the other room, Arthur gave a loud snort and mumbled something harsh from his dreams. Luxa froze, praying him to roll over and fall back asleep again. The last thing she needed at the moment was for him to wake up and find her mourning on her windowsill in the middle of the night. For a long few moments, silence reigned completely, and then she eventually relaxed, reassured that the Viceroy had retreated once more into slumber.

Losing herself to her thoughts once again, Luxa strangely, and, quite frankly, frighteningly, found her attentions directing themselves automatically towards a rather creeping topic: death.

She found herself wondering what it was, really. What lay beyond it, rather. Was it a better place than the one she was in right now? Would she be able to see Ripred's smirk again, laugh with her mother, fall exhaustedly into her father's arms? Would it be easier just to let herself drop off of the ledge right then and there, plummeting to a quick death and escaping responsibility like a coward?

She wouldn't do it, she knew, and the temptation wasn't even there, but she still found herself considering how easy it would be for her to just slip a bit and miss the catch to save herself, accidentally falling down and down and down...

Ruffled out of a disturbing vision, Luxa quickly scurried off of the sill, landing soundlessly back to the floor of her room with silent feet. Making sure she didn't wake Arthur again, she rushed to the bed and climbed hastily, pulling the covers up to her chin and tucking them around her shivering body. The trembling was only half from the chills of the room.

She was utterly lost.

She didn't know of anything anymore. She didn't want the wedding, she didn't want Arthur. She wanted Gregor to come to her now in the night and climb into her bed and wrap his arms around her seemingly tiny form and never, ever let go. She wanted him to whisper in her ear that he loved her and that he wouldn't ever dream of leaving her behind in the dark Underland while he ran away back to his high lands above and some lazy girl with an Overlander's butt and a ridiculous name...

Anxious wishes passed into mindless babbling as she slipped fast away in a deep and troubled sleep. Down in her soul her heart was still thumping painfully and her mind was still screaming for her to wake up from a horrible dream and discover nothing at all wrong. In her imagination of sleep, however, a silent nightmare of the past few days was already forming coherently, and would momentarily be taking over possession of her bleak, weakened, and mortified mind's eye.

Gradually, as their queen lost herself in horrifying slumber, the lights of the city begin to blink out one-by-one, disappearing to envelop the cavern in total darkness but for the shining torches of the palace and the still raging mourn fires of the despairing gnawers. Just like her heart, a darkness of the night was descending which would take a mutual effort of all to lift in time. Unfortunately for her, so few people realized her pain as she tossed and turned amongst her bed sheets.

Across the city, citizens were turning in for a night's sleep that would most likely only make their problems worse come the morning when they would wake up to find their goods stolen in the night.

Far away, in a secret chamber very few knew about, Aurora lay trying to escape to her dreams instead of avoiding them, delving into them as opposed to her bond's practice and running. Both minds were lost, but both also for completely different reasons, and neither understanding nor even knowing the other.

A distance inside the palace away from Luxa two separate cousins stayed awake deep into the night continually, fighting separate despairs in their own way, one working to save others, and one fighting to save what was left of themselves. Both roads were long and arduous, but yet again they formed a pair with a continual and common dilemma, one that is not easily solved.

In another side chamber of Luxa's quarters, oblivious to her disrupted sleep, Hazard slept perfectly peacefully, content to finally have his adoptive sister back, and barely feeling the blazing pain he should have at the disasters of late.

Where no one could know a single soul watched down, observing anxiously as merciless events began to unfold.

Not twenty feet away from Luxa, a mind was working feverishly.

And twenty-four windows to her left, fourteen down, someone was grieving and agonizing far more than she, except that he knew exactly what his path was, and his problem was learning to cope with it.

Learning to fight.

Learning to forget.


	22. 21: And Hope To Die

**So few to thank, but I still appreciate them exponentially. Today, it's Seraphania, november21, stephanie, Castaway5, shadowblade546, and tcat75.**

**Spring break here, so I'll be updating every day (or close to). Of course, reviews are becoming less and less, so I'm beginning to work less and less (hint, hint)... Chapter 21 with despair. Enjoy, or at least try not to cry, please.**

**Disclaimer: Enough said.**

**21**

**And Hope To Die**

It had been a long time since Luxa had stared into a mirror and actually cared what she saw there.

Long ago, when she was a child, her mother had made it a habit of hers to look perfect whenever it was possible, while at the same time expressing the ideal that it wasn't necessary at all times. She had a way of making this an extreme example to her daughter through herself, showing that a queen could both be beautiful yet appear gritty like the hard workers of her people. Luxa had easily taken to these teachings, and, although she thought of them less and less over the years, kept them with her with a special place in her heart now that her mother could no longer instruct her upon them.

Still, not often had she felt the need to look and feel beautiful on the outside. She didn't exactly consider herself the prettiest thing of the world, but Ripred had teased her many times about how the eyes of young soldiers followed her after she had turned her back upon them, and how they fell lower when they were positive they were alone with their observations. It hadn't bothered her much, considering she would never look to any of them for comfort and that, being a queen, she was pretty sure their advances would prove nonexistent. But, in the terms of being appealing to certain male eyes, it had appeased her at a small mental level of self-pride, although it wouldn't have destroyed her if she were not.

Now, however, Luxa found herself staring straight into the mirror hanging on a far wall of her room and wondering what the two most significant men in her life thought of her in terms of physical appearance.

She was incredibly lean, she could tell. If she had any body fat, it had formed for insulation and didn't show at all through the casual regal garb she wore every day. Her arms were lined with short but strong muscle, her legs didn't hang skimpy against bone. Her hands were larger than the average woman's, although still smaller than a man's. Her skin tone pleased her, perfectly pale beneath the black sky of the Underland. Her curves were defined enough for her liking. Her breasts were firm, if smaller. The silvery-blonde hair that fell slight past her shoulders if not pulled behind her head in a braid still shone majestically beneath any light. Her eyes were deep and violet, and they didn't sink back into her eyes like she had seen her mothers' do in the final few wearisome years before her death. The only taint in outward sight, actually, was only the faint scar that ran along the right side of her face, from the claw of a gnawer long ago on a quest with her most treasured comrades, and even that was barely visible, disappearing as she aged into maturity.

She still wasn't sure what the general opinion of her appearance was to the outside, but to her, she seemed beautiful enough. The thing that was suddenly bothering her was whether or not Gregor saw her as such, or, if not, what he did see her as. As a side token, she also took the time to wonder the same for Arthur, although not at such a high level of concentration.

She raised a hand to her face, thinking about Gregor, wondering if he saw anything special in the way she looked. She was pretty sure that it was not what had mainly drawn him to her five years ago, but she still wondered whether or not it had been a helping factor in the process. She found herself hoping for both that and the alternative, because either would say something about herself or her soul that might find a way to lift her spirits again.

Lowering the hand again, Luxa turned her head to the water clock sitting in the corner of the room. It was still quite early in the morning. She would be meeting with Vikus and Arthur in two hours time to discuss matters of state throughout the city and its affiliates. Her betrothed had already departed for the morning, off and working hard in places unknown to her.

Her mind drifted into different parts of the mind. At this time in only five days she would be preparing herself for marriage. Mentally, she already was, trying to leap over the widening gap of anguish and dread that was permanently lodged in her heart.

She didn't want to get married. Or, at least, not to Arthur. There wasn't anything rightfully wrong with him. He was hardworking, dedicated, and mildly selfless. He was a good man. He just wasn't the good man for Luxa.

Hazard was off and away, too, down in private training with one of his swordmaster tutors. Luxa worried slightly about him. He seemed to have a singular mind, almost, only thinking of his studies and her, and almost nothing else in the manner of the world. He had his good share of friends and was kind and polite enough for her liking, but she felt she was missing a great step in his upbringing that was necessary.

There were too many responsibilities for a queen. Here she was, trying to balance war and peace on one hand while dealing out treaties with a dozen other species, at the same time attempting heartily to juggle Hazard's life on her own scale. Not to mention the fact that she would, in all likelihood, soon take on the task of raising a family with Arthur, even as much as that seemed to disgust her in a strange and inhuman way.

An abrupt rasp at the door shocked her out of her reverie, and Luxa almost welcomed the distraction as she turned to face the door.

"Who is it?" she called, wondering who would come to the quarters of the queen at such an early hour. It was nowhere close to inappropriate conduct, but it was unexpected and mildly surprising, even for one of her friends, family, or advisors. She was curious, and even more so because it got her mind off of less desirable topics.

But no one answered the call. After a few moments, the knock repeated.

Uneasily, confusedly, Luxa reached over for her dagger scabbard on the nearest side table before she began to edge out of her bedchamber and into the main room, towards the opposite wall where the door was located. As she went, she slid the blade out of its holder, cautiously considering the possibility of any friends who wouldn't respond to a call.

She could only think of Gregor in that category, but she was sure that even he wouldn't use it except through dire need, and was equally positive that he wouldn't show up at her door in the early morning.

She threw open the door, springing back quickly in the case of a secret assailant.

On the doorstep, though, much to her surprise, there only stood the Overlander she had so expected not to see, clothed in a black agility outfit of the Underland make and sporting both the same overcoat she had seen him in at the cremation and the scimitar strapped to his side. Both hands were clasped behind his back, and he stood perfectly straight with his legs slightly parted, staring back at her ready gaze with something she could associate only as akin to boredom.

"Expecting someone?" he said, enunciating the two words in a tone that flashed near to annoyance, or dullness. He didn't move where he stood at the threshold, probably either waiting for an invitation to proceed inside or not holding any intention of doing so in any case.

Relaxing in her posture and returning the dagger to its sheath, Luxa stood up to her full height and raised her chin up to him, which made her both look and feel taller. It also comforted her a bit that she still had enough will to stand up to him. "Not this early. People usually have the common courtesy to leave a queen to herself at a certain hour."

Her words shot out harsher than she had intended and, too late, she tried to pull them back. He seemed unperturbed, though, and after a moment of staring coldly at her he stepped through the doorway with a single step to stand well into her personal space, looming over her and reminding her just how much taller he was. She found herself almost cowering under his glare in less than a second. "I'm sorry to be an inconvenience," he replied evenly. Then, even though he had obviously already entered, he added, "May I come in?"

Summoning her dignity and pride throughout surprise, she looked him straight back in the eye and growled out, "Yes."

"Thank you." He turned his gaze and stalked past her, without a sideways glance. His attention was already in other places apparently, as his eyes swiftly began to sweep around the entire room. She watched him go with an incredulous sense, curiosity and slight rage beginning to enter her mind.

He quickly took in all of the personal items in the room, which weren't many, and then proceeded to quickly walk out upon the balcony of her quarters, which stretched out of the palace out over the streets far below. After looking left and right, up and down on the platform, he turned back to the inside and began to head straight for her bedroom.

Hastily skirting so that she was standing directly in his way, barring the path into her room, she held onto the stone frame of the doorway firmly and looked him straight in the eye as she spoke. "Gregor, what do you want here?"

Without stopping at her presence or really even acknowledging it, Gregor reached out both of his arms and lifted her out of the way as if she weighed no more than her sword. Stepping into her bedchamber, he lightly deposited her off to the side and kept moving into the room while answering her question. "I'm not quite sure, Luxa."

He walked farther into the room, observing the bed once, the perfectly straightened room in its glory. His eyes passed once over every table, lingering over the details in a scrutinizing glare. As he halted for a short moment at the door to Hazard's room branching off her room, Luxa spoke up again. "This is inappropriate conduct, Gregor. Barging in and then invading my home? You have no right."

"I apologize, your majesty," he replied, not sounding in the least sorry, and still with half of his attention still focused away from her. Annoyance and anger bristled beneath her calm composure as he continued to disregard any of her warnings. Out of the corner of his eye he evidently saw her face contorting in rage, but he only flashed her a quick glance with a strange glint in his eye before turning back to his work, whatever that so happened to be.

"Gregor, what do you want?" she repeated. He didn't acknowledge the statement, however, only continued to scan the room. Finally, her anger getting the better of herself, she took a long step forward and seized his arm with a strong left hand. Whirling him around so that he faced her, she pulled him down so that their faces were inches apart. Snarling with as much veracity and ferocity as she could, she spoke her words clearly. "You _will_ respond to me! What do you want? What are you looking for?"

Deep in his eyes, she saw a spark of anger flash that might have been able to rival her own. Slowly, his head turned down to look at the hand gripping his arm and then quickly flashed them back to her face. Reluctantly, she released him, and, standing back up, he replied, "The answer to both questions, Luxa, is that I don't know yet."

"Then why are you here?" she growled in retort, losing her patience to another wave of annoyance in her mind.

Instead of answering her question, Gregor turned back to face the room at large and asked a quite unexpected question, "Does the Viceroy sleep here?"

Caught off guard, but still ready to respond, Luxa fought off the amused sensation her heart weakly sent her mind, and instead replied without missing a beat, "No. He sleeps in the far chamber." She gestured off in general direction of his bedchamber, hoping that Gregor was here over nothing more than uneasy jealousy.

However, instead of just turning back to her, relieved to find them not quite so intimate in their relationship, he purposefully began to stroll into the Viceroy's chamber, taking careful notice of everything as he went in. Quickly, she followed, curious and surprised.

Where her room was impersonal Arthur's was completely bare. Nothing of any significance filled the chamber, only absent stacks of his formal wear and attire, and a few pieces of note, containing important engagements of the council affairs or his own dilemmas. The bed was straight, solemn, and mildly boring, to go perfectly along with the room. Gregor walked distractedly in and began the same visual routine sweep that he had of her room as well.

As she caught up with him again, her impatience got the better of her and her voice escaped her throat in a very vicious growl. "Gregor. You will tell me now what you mean of this. What is it that you are evidently searching for?"

"I told you, your majesty," he replied, still observing as he rounded the bed to its far side and keeping a rigidly formal tone locked beneath his voice's control, "I'm not sure what I'm looking for. However, if I do, I'm sure you'll be the first one who receives the privilege of knowing----"

"Enough, Gregor!" Luxa snarled loudly through clenched teeth, angrily enough to cause him to turn his head uneasily in her direction. "Enough games! You will tell me what you mean of this intrusion, or I will have you thrown out of the palace instantly!"

Her rant ended in a cold silence, which stretched out into the room and ended in them both staring regretfully at the bed. Too much agony was being felt on both of their parts for the anger that they were both experiencing to be handled. They couldn't take both at once.

Taking a deep breath, still keeping his glare locked on the stone headboard of the bed, Gregor replied, "Luxa, I swear to you that I don't even know what I'm looking for. You're just going to have to trust me when I say that it would be in your best interest not to throw me out."

"I cannot take that," Luxa said, taking several steps so that she was standing directly behind him. "What do you mean you do not know what you are looking for? Why are you here if you do not know what you are looking for?"

His lips were forever contorted into a horrible frown, and it pained her a lot to see it so. She longed for him to smile, as he had done so long ago when his gaze fell upon her face. She wanted to hear him laugh, just as he did as he watched his little sister or listened to Ripred yelling at someone. But he only held his scowl as he answered, "I can't answer those questions."

"Why not?" she urged.

"I just can't."

"That makes no sense, Gregor."

He pushed past her, still sweeping over the room. "Well, it'll have to do, won't it? It's all I can give you."

"Why, Gregor?" she cried. "Why can you not tell me more?"

"Because it's not my place to do so nor is it the appropriate time. In fact, I don't even know if I need to be doing all of this. It's just pointlessly redundant, and I'm looking for something I can't even identify."

"Exactly what are you doing?"

"Observation."

"Why?"

"Who the hell knows?"

Exasperated, confused, and annoyed out of her mind, Luxa took a deep, calming breath and tried to face Gregor with composure as he lowered himself to the floor to look under the bed. He had yet to realize that the bed, being stone, rested right against the floor, eliminating any "under" below the bed. As he stood again, Luxa looked him straight in the eye and said, "Then why are you here, if you have no idea what you are doing here or what you are looking for or why you feel it alright to interrupt me in my quarters for no reason whatsoever?!"

He paused for a long moment, staring deep back into her gaze. Finally, he just turned and walked away back into the main room, head still turning left and right as it searched for whatever it was he was looking for which he didn't even know. Then, abruptly, he stopped, forcing his glare straight forward with his back perfectly turned to her. Speaking in a low voice, he said, "I don't know why I'm here. But I do know why I came."

Luxa blinked. "Is that not the same thing?"

Gregor shook his head, still doing his best to incinerate the opposite wall with his eyes as she took a few steps towards him from behind. "No, it's not. I came here for one thing, but I'm not sure if I'm still here for that reason."

Perplexed, Luxa coughed once and asked, "Well, then, what exactly did you _come_ here for?"

A moment stretched before his reply. "To say goodbye."

Her heart immediately stopped. Mouth falling open and eyes shooting wide in shock and fear, he lunged at him, catching him by the arms and swinging him around to face her. "'Goodbye'?" she screamed. "What do you mean, 'to say goodbye'?"

"I think you know exactly what it me----"

"What the _hell_ do you _mean _goodbye?" she was screaming, frantic, shaking him as she spoke. His face was expressionless, but there was some hint of him that told her he wasn't happy to be there for the reason he was and she kept shouting. "Goodbye?! Goodbye to where?!"

He swallowed and took a deep breath, grimacing as he looked back at her as evenly as he could. "I'm going back, Luxa."

It was all he needed to say. Her heart plummeted to below her stomach, and a horrible wave of vertigo hit her head as she clutched his arms desperately. "You can't go back! You can't leave me here. You can't leave any of us here alone."

"Why not?" Gregor growled, grabbing her wrists with strong hands, and wrenching them off of his arms. "I can't do anything else for the Underland. You're safe, Regalia isn't under imminent attack, and all I'm doing anymore is getting in the way, of you, of Vikus... of the Viceroy." As he spoke the title of Arthur his gaze became distant, hateful, but he said nothing more.

"We still need you!" Luxa pleaded, trying to break free of his vice grip. Trembling, she clutched closer to him as she begged and begged. "Please, Gregor. Don't go back. You can't leave me here----"

"You didn't fight this hard the last time," Gregor said coldly. It took Luxa a moment to realize that he was speaking of their parting five years ago. "You just let me go. Why can't you do that now?"

Luxa didn't have an answer. Why was she fighting so hard now? Why didn't she fight as hard back then? These were questions she didn't even know how to begin analyzing, much less find a solution. But at the moment, to her, they were irrelevant. The only thing, in fact, that _was_ relevant was the mannish male standing rigid in front of her, preparing to leave her for most likely the last time in either of their lives.

Left on the spot and searching for anything to help, she cried, "Please, Gregor. Stay. With me. Just stay."

Gregor shook his head. "What kind of a thing would that be? I would just watch you get married away, and then spend my life in misery underneath a man who has the only thing I ever want!"

Luxa's heart fluttered for a short second at his words, but the gravity of the situation quickly sent the sensation to rest. Reaching for explanations or excuses out of the thin air, she desperately picked out what she found to be the easiest of the many. "Why would we not be together?"

Staring at her with an incredibly incredulous look, Gregor said, "Um, because you're getting married in five days? Not to me?!"

Speaking with an extremely calm tone, Luxa shook her head very slowly and looked him dead in the eye. "It is planned now, yes. And I cannot call off the wedding just because of nervousness. But... if I had a reason, someone else to come into my life..."

But Gregor didn't even seem to consider it, running past the topic quickly. "Vikus would never allow it. In fact, _I_ wouldn't even allow it. That would just throw Regalia to hell again, and I won't sacrifice that for my happiness, or yours. You have to marry the Viceroy, or your kingdom will fall to pieces, and it would be all because we couldn't just walk away from each other..."

"But we _cannot_ just walk away from each other!" Luxa cried, ripping free of his hands and raising them instantly up to seize his face lightly. He didn't try to stop her, just let her hands fly away from his and have his come to rest softly on her shoulders. Her voice choking up, Luxa reached over and stroked the scars running along his neck and said softly, "Gregor... Gregor, I love you."

His face didn't change, but in his eyes something flashed. Surprise, definitely. Then a hint of shock. Thrown all in with a tiny bit of glee. She was mildly surprised, since she had believed him to know these feelings already. It seemed that her speaking them aloud had stirred something inside him, but she didn't let him have the moment to change his mind before he truly understood.

And so, while he was still in shock, she pulled herself up to him and him down to her and lightly pressed her lips against his.

They were frozen in time. It was only them, alone; there was nothing else anywhere. For a moment, neither of them moved, locked together by the silent contact of their mouths. It was silent bliss for Luxa, but she was really starting to wonder what was running through Gregor's mind that had him utterly frozen. Abruptly, however, his lips turned so that they met hers more easily, and she felt his hands run off her shoulders and down her sides, at the same time he pulled her closer against his body.

She obliged instantly, moving with him as her hands moved past his face and locked together behind his neck, pulling her as close as was possible and leaving no gap whatsoever between their two interlocking bodies. Even as she did so, she felt his arms wrap tightly around her waist, and a moment later he had hoisted her up into the air, dangling her in his clutches as their lips fought a fierce battle of conquest against each other.

A second later, he had pinned her against the wall in his passion, not hard enough to hurt but enough so for her to enjoy and momentarily fantasize about the way the sudden change was going. Suspended in his arms and inflated by his will, her mind was anxiously slipping to other places, as she strung her fingers happily through the coarse hair that she loved so much...

And then, abruptly, he tore himself away from her, dropping her quickly to the ground the rearing back into the room, a combined look of horror and disgust playing across his face. "No," he said, backing away as fast as he could, "no, no, no, no! I can't do this!"

Going instantly after him, she cried out, "Gregor----"

But he interrupted her instantly, holding up strong arms to hold her back come the moment he needed to. "No. I can't do this. There can be nothing anymore. I cannot stay here. I don't want to rip open either of our wounds."

Fury rising once more with fear, Luxa shouted out, "What wounds? The ones in our hearts that you will make even worse if you go out and walk away forever?"

"It's not appropriate," Gregor groaned, turning his back on her, talking, it seemed as much to himself as he was to her. "I can't. You're not free. You're taken. I can never have you anymore..."

"Give me a reason, Gregor!" Luxa pleaded, catching up to him and resting both of her hands on his back, unwilling to make him turn and face her at the sudden arousing of them both. "Give it to me, Gregor! Give me something to call it all off."

"But how can I do that?!" he screamed, roaring to the ceiling and shrugging away from her, back into more open space and heading for the balcony. "How can I _do that_, knowing what I'll be forcing upon your two cities? That could be almost like genocide, in a way, just because we couldn't say goodbye a second time."

"Maybe we were meant to be, Gregor!" she cried, anxious to keep him thinking, or to prevent him from it. She didn't know which was the best anymore. She was just too confused and frightened and heartbroken. "Maybe that's what dragged you back down here after me, why you're standing there now."

"No, Luxa," he growled, leaning against the guardrail on the terrace. "If we were meant to be, we would never have met, because then we wouldn't feel this pain any time we thought of each other and knew we couldn't be." He paused for a moment, probably waiting for her reply, but before she could fathom anything to say he added something to his reprimand to them both. "Our love isn't forbidden. It shouldn't exist."

Her heart shattered at that very moment, with enough force to break her will of standing. She collapsed, and had she not been standing next to her main chair she would have fallen to the ground. As it was, she only slouched into the thing, pain and torture and horror all passing through her mind at a single moment. She hoped to be dead, because pain like this didn't rival anything else she had ever felt before. She barely noticed the tears that had formed in her eyes, or the wetness they left in their tracks as they rolled slowly, agonizingly down her face. She hadn't cried since her mother had died.

Nothing had ever hurt as bad as this.

She looked up painfully when he reentered the room, doing his best to avoid her harsh, broken gaze. Swallowing several times, he shifted his footing and closed his eyes as he spoke. "I can't stay here. I can't watch you live out your life with another man. I have to leave."

"You are going immediately?" she replied, distraught, but knowing no way of how she could restrain him any longer.

He shook his head, still not meeting her glare. "I have matters to take care of. Personal subjects, things that only I can finish. They should take a few days, but no longer. I will leave for the Overland as soon as they are complete."

Her voice breaking as sobs entered her voice, she moaned out, "You will not stay even for the wedding?"

He considered it for a moment, staring far off into the distance with mournful eyes, and, for a moment, she thought that he might have felt just as bad as she. Then his shaking voice omitted the answer. "For you, I will try. But every day leaves my family alone up there, and I can make no promises."

"Why did you come now, to say goodbye?" she asked, her voice barely even qualifying as a whisper. "Why not when you are finished with your matters?"

He closed his eyes once, and then opened them as he turned slowly to face her, looking her dead in the eye with the saddest expression she had ever seen on anyone. It drove another, last stake into her heart, so much so that she barely heard his reply. "I wanted to do as soon as I possibly could, because I knew that the longer I put if off, the harder it would be in the end."

She didn't reply, staring off into the wall behind him now. He stood perfectly still for a long few horrible moments, and then, in a stride extremely pained and practiced, he turned away and walked around her chair for the door. As she heard its rare wooden frame swing open, she hastily turned her head over her shoulder and called out to him. "Then what of our hearts, Gregor? What will happen since we have already given them to each other?"

He didn't reply. The pause lengthened, and then stayed completely permanent. He stood perfectly serene contemplating, and she wondered for a moment whether he was lost in his own mournful mind. She knew that she was well on her way, but she didn't know the extent of his pain. Just as she was about to say something again, however, his voice finally broke through the weak mask of silence.

"Your heart never belonged to me," Gregor said tonelessly. "And mine... my heart was killed a very long time ago."

Without another word, he walked through the door and swung it shut behind him, leaving Luxa perfectly alone with her thoughts, tears, and horrible, naked pain.


	23. 22: The Day

**Thanks to reviewers Seraphania, wwlego, november21, stephanie, pomplamouse, tcat75, Castaway5, shadowblade546, and laxxgoal31.**

**Thank you for still being there. I write faster when I feel loved. Just so you all know, this thing isn't about to end anytime soon. In fact, I think that in two more chapters we'll be exactly halfway through. (: Anyway, I'm still here, at least, and here is Chapter 22. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Believe what you will. I won't blame you, although the court sue will blame me, of course.**

**22**

**The Day**

The day she was to be married Luxa awoke feeling completely numb.

She sat up, neither feeling happy nor sad, angry or calm. Just perfectly serene, with nothing but an amazing determination to both walk into and leave the day with the same pride she currently possessed, even if her heart screamed at her to break something apart. Maybe that was why she was numb; her heart was trying to disrupt the proceedings, and she had silenced it with cold, hard unfeeling to break its will.

Her mind was made up. No mistakes. No broken rules. She'd had five days to mull over Gregor's parting cries as she went absent-mindedly over unimportant queen matters, and she had finally seen the truth behind them, the selfishness which would have had her throwing away her kingdom just so that she could have him. Her mind grew clearer, and with it her shame got larger, and eventually she had just grown to hate herself for her greediness. No sooner had she realized that then did she vow to do only what was right for her kingdom.

The only major problem with that plan was that in involved two things. Marrying the Viceroy, and then forgetting Gregor. One was hard enough as it was, but two was utterly impossible.

She was alone in her room. Arthur had already left in the morning, anxious to finish off the last-minute plans to the ceremony. True to his word to Ripred, he hadn't slept with her once before the wedding, although the proceeding night was not something Luxa was looking forward to in the slightest.

Hazard had slept in Vikus' chambers the previous evening of his own request, insistent that his chosen sister be alone without worries the night before she bonded herself eternally to another human. Those were his exact words, and it didn't do well for her to have to hear them aloud, displaying just as alone she was. It hurt her that no one truly knew her honest feelings for Gregor, not Vikus, not Hazard, not Howard, not even Ripred. Only she and Gregor held the knowledge, and both had pushed apart for the good of her kingdom, which was quickly becoming to look unimportant in the grand scheme of things in the world.

Regardless, she had already promised herself that her attitude toward the proceedings would not hinder them from happening. She owed it to Arthur, she owed it to Ripred. Vikus, Hazard. Even Gregor. She wouldn't bring herself to disappoint them. Couldn't bring herself to disappoint them. She would not make another mistake.

She rose silently from her bed, crossing the room in equal quiet. Her mind was screaming for attention and thought, but her hard will refused to allow it even the slightest amount of desperate room in her mind. Without recognition of anything but duty, she dressed herself in casual garb. Everything in the way of her wedding attire had already been arranged and prepared, and so it didn't matter what she wore until the time where she would be robed for holy matrimony. She barely paid attention to what she put on, only enough to make sure it was sufficient and appropriate for its daily limited use.

She left her room shortly after, her brain unconsciously operating her feet. She passed no one in the halls that led out of regal chambers down to more community levels, something she was quietly thankful for. Facing citizens at the same time she was dreading what her life would be tomorrow and fighting off mourning thoughts was not something she fancied to take on at the time.

As she slowly descended the fourth staircase of her route, Luxa found herself wondering why she felt so corrupt and horrible. She had told herself so many times in the past that she lived only for her kingdom, yet, here she was, confused and depressed and agonizing and so many other things while her kingdom seemed to be climbing the ladder of prosperity in the Underland world. She asked herself why she couldn't be the people's queen to herself, and then imagined what her mother would think of her if she were there at that moment.

Shame.

Disappointment.

Sympathy.

Understanding.

All were plausible with a mother such as hers, and Luxa wouldn't have put it past Juliet to feel all at once. But, as the memories of her mother's feelings came back to her, Luxa only found herself feeling worse and worse and worse. Thoughts were inconvenient. Her emotionless side decided to destroy them later.

She didn't really know where she was going, so deep was her thoughtlessness and angst. Over time she realized that she was in the process of arriving in the cordial wing, as had been prearranged for over three days. Her mind was in flux, jumping from war to death to destruction and back to wedding. Actually, to her, the latter was a synonym of the first three, and it really didn't matter which one was described for her to see the same thing in her mind's eye.

Her mind didn't dwell on such thoughts. She turned a corner in the long corridor and was announced to the bustle of palace servants, running to and fro across the main doors of the wing. Everywhere was a blinding image of being busy, from the dozens of arguing ministers in one corner to the few grumbling attendants at the door. A number of women were running into and from the wing, rushing items of attire.

It was one of these, a short and quick looking girl who must have been younger than her, passing by in a rush to another wing of the castle, that stopped at her and said, "Your majesty, you are late. With haste! Miravet is frantic, your majesty! To be wed in but three hours and you are like so! Quickly, quickly!"

Startled by the servant's words, Luxa froze to watch her disappear quickly up the vast corridor, delaying and procrastinating and anything she could do to avoid walking forward into the wing, where her wedding garb waited for her. Never before had she felt such a strange sensation, something like nervousness and pain and fear all poured into one. For a moment, she lost herself in it, realizing that once she stepped into the room where her great-aunt would dress her in perfect white, then she would never be able to walk back. It was a one-way road. And she knew she had to take it.

With trembling legs, weighed down by the sudden burden Luxa now understood she carried, she forced her body to move forward step-by-step, towards the door that spelled out the rest of her life, which she could already tell would be lonely, grim, and painful.

As she approached, complete silence fell upon the busy crowd, and every head turned in her direction as she walked forward. She focused to keep her head rigidly straight, looking at nothing but the threshold of the wing. She had the privilege of not responding to the attention, fortunately.

Unless it was just in her mind, the perfect quiet allowed her to hear each and every one of her footsteps as she pounded as light as was possible across the stone, entering the wing where she could already hear her great-aunt shouting frantically but still politely at her workers, anxious to deal with last minute problems and obstacles. She descended down a short dark passage lined with dozens of non-lightened doorways before it turned two corners, one left and right, and then led to a stone entrance, which stood lightly ajar and in front of which stood three tall guards.

They were conversing as she rounded a corner, but at the sight of her they immediately snapped up to salute, followed by a synchronous bow from them all. After they regained their height, the center one, who wore enough weapons and honors to appear their leader, reached for the door and said, "Your Majesty. I am afraid Lady Miravet is less than pleased with the way things are displaying themselves as of yet. I would advise patience and understanding."

Realizing that she probably should have been able to recognize the man, although she didn't, she offered them all a grim smile as they pulled open the door for her. "Thank you, gentlemen," she replied softly, already walking past them in her mind, just as her feet did so in reality. With a heaving sigh she made inaudible to the guards, Luxa wiped her face clean and walked through the door, trying not to listen to it swing monotonously closed behind her.

The room ahead of her was in disarray. It was brightly lit, from many torches hanging every few feet around the edge of the walls. Mirrors lined almost every surface as well, only allowing breaks for the brackets and occasional stands holding items of beauty, which Luxa never before had found it necessary to pay attention to. In the center of all the commotion her great-aunt Miravet, sister of her grandmother Solovet, stood. Surrounding her were several women of all shapes and sizes, all trying to rush forward with different colors and cloths for her criticism. As Luxa watched with an anxiously raised eyebrow, Miravet hastily threw three colors aside before selecting one and sending all of the woman off back into their separate chambers of clothing accessories and the such before she turned in the general direction of the door and noticed Luxa waiting patiently and reluctantly.

Miravet was the head of Regalia's armory, but she had also designed the weddings of both her sister and Luxa's mother, and so was not passing up the opportunity to design Luxa's. Luxa hadn't protested. It had only been three days before when her great-aunt requested the chance, and at that time her mind was too caught up inside despair and anger for her to even think of refusing.

"Luxa!" Miravet cried now, quickly crossing to room to catch her by the arm and hastily drag her back across. "You are late! Know you the urgent necessity of timing in this? It is a _wedding_! We cannot make mistakes! Quickly! Quickly! Here!"

Luxa found herself instantly standing before the far wall, with Miravet holding her steady from behind, more to hold her in place, though, as opposed to anything else. Before her hung her wedding gown, suspended by hooks hammered into the stonewalls between mirrors. She found herself speechless, despite all her hardened composure and desperate attempt at appearing differently than she felt. Whatever it was she had been expecting, what hung before her was not it.

Taken long ago from their forebears in the Overland, Underland women traditionally wore white gowns for their wedding. In an abrupt and unannounced break from tradition, however, Luxa observed with curiosity that Miravet had opted to change the way. Her gown was a very deep purple, somewhere between a red and a very dark blue, in a strange combination so radiant that it could barely be looked at. It wasn't chaotically flamboyant, the skirt cutting off into many layers as it well far below her knees. The bodices, strangely enough, had sleeves, although they were clearly thin, form fitting, and were a lighter shade of purple then the chest piece and skirt. There was no veil whatsoever, nothing too uncommon to the Underland.

Over all, Luxa found herself mystified. The gown wasn't extravagant, but the only way she could describe it, to herself or to anyone else should she need to, was incredibly beautiful.

Miravet, however, was leaving her no time to be amazed by its sheer brilliance. Leaving her only a moment to scrutinize, the old woman quickly yanked her back again. "It would have been best had you been on time. We would already have you in the dress and ready, able to make several inspections!"

"I am perfectly on time, Miravet," Luxa groaned, receiving mindfully a premonition of much discomfort over the coming three hours. "There is nothing to worry about. We have plenty of time."

_Then what am I so worried about?_ she thought to herself, already knowing the answer but disregarding. Her mind had to be in the here and now if she was to survive the next three hours of Underland pampering and perfecting.

It wasn't as bad as she expected, as it turned out.

First, she was stripped of her clothes before any remnant of hair was shaved from her body, save that atop her head. Despite a slight discomfort, her warring mind was able to distract her enough for it not to bother her. Next, Miravet made sure her workingwomen scrubbed any showing of grime or dirt from her skin, leaving nothing but shining perfection in its place. She was a queen, she needed to be seen as the cleanest. Luxa begged to differ but kept her mouth shut.

By the time her skin had begun to burn raw from the scrubbing, Miravet had taken so much time to be precise half of their expendable period had elapsed. Her gown still hung on its hook and her hair was still hanging in a tight braid behind her head and back. She was beginning to actually be uneasy for time, but her great-aunt still showed no signs of concern.

No sooner had she thought up her concerns than were they all addressed at once. Two of the women quickly dressed her in appropriate undergarments and lighter purple tights, and then two more swung the dress up and over her head, slipping it over her as she tried to swing her arms into the sleeves lightly. It fell over her almost naturally, fitting easily and almost hugging her body comfortably. She wondered how it had been discovered so perfectly when she hadn't even seen it before the minute Miravet walked her up to it.

As it was straightened and flattened by the servants, Miravet herself came behind her and undid the braid in record time with practiced hands. Letting the silvery hair fall back over Luxa's shoulders, she slowly reached for certain clumps and began to string them together, held to each other only _by_ each other, in a technique Luxa had never known before. As she did so, she began to absentmindedly hum a tune, one Luxa found herself remembering, if only from distant and unused memories. It was old, one her mother had used to sing to her. She could barely remember it, but it was still there somehow.

Caught up in the tightening of unseen straps and laces in the dress and Miravet's unique braiding of her hair, Luxa didn't notice as a woman reached up to her face and rubbed an ointment across the scar on the right side of her face. It sunk in and caused the faint red line appearing there to fade farther still more gradually, and the woman walked away without another action.

Then, before she couldn't even register anything as having happened, she felt a strange heaviness descend upon the back of her head, and simultaneously all of the women working on her gown stepped away, revealing their work with looks of pride upon their face.

Taking her quickly by the hand and leading her off of the stand she had been propped atop for the women to do their work on her, Miravet pulled her gently towards the wall of mirrors, so that she could see the masterpiece that was herself.

In her own eyes, scrutinizing herself, there was only one way to describe it: breathtakingly beautiful.

Where it had looked excellent alone, it displayed itself three times as good. The purple tinge of the garb didn't match her eyes at all, but it fit itself in with a perfect difference instead, balancing out the color with an amazing synchronization of uniqueness. The entire apparel clung to her, surreptitiously revealing every appealing thing about her body. Even the skirt had a way of flailing out at the perfect point. Behind her head, she could see, Miravet had combed several strands of hair over each other, curving them in, out, around, and through each other in such a complex pattern she stared at it and became dizzy in only a moment. She appeared impromptu, nothing like she had ever imagined it to be and like nothing she had ever seen before.

The entire time she stared at what in no way could be herself in the mirror, though, only one thought was flashing over and over again in her mind. _I wish Gregor would be there to see me in this_.

Ripping herself away from the startling awe of the mirror, Luxa found Miravet ordering the last few cleanups and decisions before dismissing all of the workers out of the chamber, presumably to either return to their other duties or attend the wedding festivities. Luxa only realized now that less than twenty minutes remained before the time when she would walk the aisle to her future life and Arthur. Just as that came to mind a dagger of dread shot itself into her soul.

The doors closed loudly, leaving only a beaming Miravet and Luxa, who was trying as hard as she could to muster up a smile but failing miserably as the next few minutes began to play themselves out in her mind.

Oblivious to her discomfort, Miravet came over and wrapped her arms around her niece, taking care not to disturb the careful way the gown was situated about her. When she withdrew herself Luxa was disturbed to see tears brimming from her eyes. "Oh, the day has finally arrived."

She said nothing else, only turned and went to the door, leaving Luxa standing alone in the center of the room still. She opened the door herself and then went out, allowing three others into the room as she did. Vikus, Howard, and Hazard all looked relatively well. They wore matching robes of blue, as was custom to an Underland wedding. Hazard's brown hair was short enough to sit flat without consequence, Howard's silver hair was dashed off to one side of his face, an the white of Vikus' just sat lightly around his face.

Hazard rushed forward immediately, hugging his sister with an intensity that would have ruined her gown had Howard not run after and pulled him off immediately. Sitting back with a great smile that Luxa could only hope to return, the young boy said, "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." She didn't know what else to say. The grin plastered to her face was betraying the feelings that really warred on inside of her, but she could do nothing to remove it without hurting her brother, and she was unwilling to do that.

Hazard stood there, as if wanting to say something else, but he kept his mouth shut afterwards and finally Howard lightly pushed him aside as he made his own way to his cousin. Deprived of a father, Luxa had gotten the right to choose who walked her down the aisle. Instead of Vikus, however, who had never expressed an explicit amount of interest in doing despite his great care for his granddaughter, Luxa had chosen Howard for that duty.

Bending down from his height to lightly wrap his arms around her, her cousin said, "You _do_ look beautiful. I am very happy for you. This is a day to be celebrated." His words almost made her believe he knew her inner turmoil, but he stepped back with such genuine happiness that she shook off the thought as incredulous. She was beginning to imagine things as the undesirable moment came closer and closer.

Howard stepped back, allowing room for his grandfather to come forward. When Vikus didn't move, only stood rooted to the spot staring straight-faced and intently at Howard, the young doctor quickly got the message. Reaching for Hazard, he turned back to Luxa and called, "I will just wait outside for you."

Then the two younger men left the room, leaving only a stern Vikus and a slightly scared Luxa. The moment the door closed behind the departing two, however, the old man's face spread into a great smile that even spread to his paralyzed side. He slowly made his way forward, encompassing her in a soft, solid embrace, letting her lean against him without harm while he spoke in a whisper into her ear. "I am so proud of you this day, Luxa. Never have you given such a great sacrifice for yourself is this. If your parents were here, I am sure they would share my reasoning, and they would willingly bow down below you like the queen you are. I am so happy. Your life will be great. I love you, Luxa."

Shocked speechless, Luxa could do nothing but try to return his embrace as steadily as she could. She wanted to express her own love back, but found that her heart was too broken and appalled to do anything of the sort. After a few moments, she allowed him to release her. She saw the there were tears in his eyes, but on his face rested a wonderful smile, and he flashed it in full intensity at her before he squeezed her hand once more and went to join Hazard as they made their way ahead to the congregation.

She stood frozen to the spot for a long few moments, her mind nowhere close to sane and dreading what would happen to her if she ever gathered the courage to leave the room and meet Howard on the long walk to her sorrowful destiny.

She didn't want to.

She tried not to.

But somehow she found herself slowly taking the steps out of the room, any grin or smile disappeared from her face. She opened the door simply, finding Howard standing patiently waiting for her as she closed it again. The guards were gone. There was no one in sight except for her and her cousin. Wordlessly, she roped her arm through his and they began to walk down a wide corridor where, after a number of long and wide turns, there lied several adjacent chambers where the ceremony was to take place.

He led her, and she let him, her mind still back with Vikus in the room, wondering just how many of his words were really meant the way they sounded to her. She wondered if he knew just how much pain she was in at the moment. She thought of Gregor, imagining what he would say if he saw her now, already knowing that he wouldn't be in the wedding chamber when she got there. The thought drove physical pain into her chest, but she managed to keep her step even without even a sign of her discomfort.

She thought of any way she could get out of this, any way that was possible to avoid walking through the doors and becoming the wife of Viceroy Arthur. She didn't want it. She wanted him. Gregor. So bad. But that would never come, and by now it was too late for anything else.

And, suddenly, out of nowhere, they were at the doors that separated her from her eternal life evermore. She could hear music playing from unknown instruments, and the bustle of people as they found their last minute places. She wondered what Ripred would have told her if he could have seen her at that moment.

And then Howard was asking her if she was ready. And, despite what her heart and mind screamed at her to speak, she found herself clamping her mouth shut and nodding her head.

So, at that moment of fate, Howard stepped forward, pushed the doors apart with a single, strong arm, and led her into the way that was the rest of her life.

**I'm taking liberty here at Hazard's hair being brown as a result of the Halflander thing. If that's wrong please tell me and I'll make appropriate changes.**


	24. 23: Altering Altars

**Thanks to reviewers pomplamouse, stephanie, november21, Castaway5, Fitz Mark, shadowblade546, and a certain unnamed person who left no name.**

**Certain unnamed person who left no name: I was referring to Hazard, as her chosen brother. Oh, and, whether you meant it or not, if you ever threaten my family again, I will hunt you down and kill you. Understand?**

**Okay, I'm feeling nice. Two updates in one day! I believe that for now this is the chapter you've all been waiting for. Be prepared for unseen and necessary evils, and chaotic happenings that make perfect and no sense all at the same time. Don't forget to review and tell me how much you were able to see coming. Chapter 23. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I would if I could but I can't so I won't.**

**23**

**Altering Altars**

She didn't know what to make of the scene ahead of her.

It had been known to her that Arthur had barred the wedding from any non-allies, such as the spinners and shiners and, obviously but unnecessarily, the cutters. This she had expected, because they still didn't know how the cutters were able to penetrate so far into human territory, and then the human _city_, to take her captive. For all they knew, it could have been one of the untrustworthy species, and they weren't eager in the slightest for a repeat performance.

What surprised her was that before her she thought she saw more gnawers than humans.

The aisle divided the two sides of the chamber where guests stood perfectly, splitting it right down the middle as it led directly up to the altar. From what she could see, the entire left section and a bit of the right as well was completely occupied by gnawers, every single one of their furs sleek and scrubbed clean of any remnants of soot. So much was the shock at this that she almost stopped walking, but, luckily, Howard was there to keep pulling her along, and she obliged, working hard just to keep her mouth from hanging open in surprise.

Of the remaining room on the right, she estimated that two-thirds of it was made up of her human colleagues and friends, while the final third was composed of fliers. Only a few crawlers were there, but they still made themselves relatively prominent by sitting near the very front.

In synchronization, every head of the entire room pivoted at the spot to rest on her as she entered the chamber. Self-consciousness pounded down upon her faster than she could react, and once more only Howard pulling her along by their interlocking arms propelled them along.

Harsh glares, heavy stares, and completely annoying but loving glances followed her as she took every step. She felt like she was being observed and rated by every human being of the earth. It took a good deal of will to keep her head straight, away from the ignorant onlookers, focused on thealter looming closer and closer with each slow and measured step. And then, only for the first time, she actually took a moment to look at who stood there.

Hazard and Vikus stood in the back of their others, beaming profusely and clearly considering it a challenge to look at anything except for her. York stood with them, clothed in similar attire and regarding her without a smile, but with twinkling eyes that betrayed his hard composure. Mareth stood ahead of them, regarding her with nothing but a kind grin and caring eyes, directly behind the groom of the ceremony. He was clad in nothing but harsh black, from the robes adorning his shoulders to the tall ceremonial boots he wore on his feet. As was tradition, he wore his long sword by his side, but only for show instead of security. He would be performing the ceremony, by mutual request of the couple. He was the only one Luxa trusted enough to do it, and Arthur hadn't dissuaded her.

But ahead of them all, capturing her attention in the fullest, stood Arthur. His hair seemed unchanged, but even she could see that something in a difference had come about. It seemed to whirl about around his head as she crossed ever closer down the still distant progression, even despite the absence of any breeze. His robes were light, thin and layered, shaded with a magnificent green and showering the room in a strange, heavy, livid and passionate mood. His hands were clasped behind his back and he stood as straight up as he could find possible. Over his perfect face was spread a smirk that clearly told the entire world he considered himself the luckiest man ever to live upon or under the earth.

And looking at him disgusted her.

She hated herself. She couldn't do it. She couldn't keep walking, to meet this man and spend the rest of her already dismal life with him. But for some damned reason her feet kept putting the opposite one ahead of the other, and she found herself taking step after step into her inevitable future. They began to get closer and closer, although still very far away, and still she had yet to hear a single sound but the music and frantic whispers since she had entered the vast temple.

The only thought that kept her sane was imagining that Arthur was really Gregor, waiting for her at the alter.

She knew he wasn't there. Gregor. If he had been, he would have been standing at Mareth's side, no doubt wearing his own scimitar and, she hoped, doing his best from ramming it through the happy-looking groom in front of him. The fantasy almost drove a strange smile to her face, but then everything else came crashing down upon her, and she realized that if he wasn't there then than he wouldn't be there ever.

She wondered why he wasn't. He had said he had business to take care of. Perhaps he got caught up in it, and wasn't able to make attendance. She doubted it. If he was still here, he had promised he would come, and she knew that to her he wouldn't break it. Because he wasn't in attendance, though, that left her to only one conclusion: his work was done, and he had decided to depart without a further goodbye. He had gone back up to the Overland, and she would never see him again.

Ever. Not _for_ever. Never.

Numbness returned to her as she went ever onward, feeling approving eyes on her back and evil glares alike. Outside of the people she wasn't the most loved of queens. Most of the time she was locked in mortal combat with the council, in fact, and with the eternal support of the Viceroy forthwith, who was about to be made the King, those of the council itself would not strike many more victories. Suffice it to say, they were not pleased with her choice of marriage, and were not pleased to see it coming so soon in her reign.

They were halfway along the aisle. Halfway from leaving her immaturity and launching fully into the duties of her people.

She didn't think she could go any farther, yet still she pushed forward. She didn't know why she didn't feel ravaging pain or horrible agony or anything of that train of thought, but she was still surprised at the thoughts that jumped through her head, displaying scenarios and wishes and dreams and fantasies that were fresh and long dead alike.

She thought of Ripred, her beloved bond, gone forever from the world. She had loved him like the father he was. Species had nothing to do with it, he protected and scorned and loved her just as she did him, and finally admitting it, albeit to herself, seemed to lay it out and change the past five years of her life. He felt as if she had finally passed Ripred's soul inside her on to the afterlife, coming to a term with the fact that she had loved the rat. Her heart felt no pain, only rejoice. But it didn't help her as she took more steps.

She thought of her parents. She knew, as she watched her mother watch her play, that the woman had dreamed and schemed and wished to be there when she finally married. She had imagined her daughter young but mature and solemn but so happy. She had hoped to be there when Luxa finally moved on in life. Her father wouldn't have been as glad, but still he probably would have been driven to tears by the sight of his daughter walking down the aisle towards her permanent consort. He was strong but compassionate, just the way she found herself suddenly to be.

She thought of Henry, and wondered how he would have seen this day. She didn't know what to make of him anymore.

She thought of Aurora, who she could see crouched at the foremost of the flier entourage, looking directly at her with a sense of great pride. She could barely find herself to contain what strength and love her flier bond was trying to convey to her with a simple gaze. For the first time, her face broke into only a half-forced smile, directed at her bond and only for her bond. If nothing else, Aurora gave her the will and courage to take a few more steps as they walked ever closer to the rest of her life.

She thought of Hazard, as she mounted the short array of steps that led up to the altar where she was about to make life vows. She wondered how he would adjust to his chosen sister being married. She couldn't imagine that it would drive them apart, but she couldn't bring herself to believe that they would be brought closer by the event. She could only hope, as she spared him a last-second glance, that they would retain the bond they had formed over the five years they had experienced together.

She thought of Vikus and Howard, as they leveled out at the top and her cousin began to direct her towards her betrothed, who was about to become much more than her betrothed. She prayed that she would love them the same when this was done and through, because experiencing one side, she knew, gave her no clue as to how the other end would turn out in the end. She wondered if Vikus would still be her indestructible peacekeeper, if Howard would act as her unbeatable friend. She wondered if they would still stand by her when she needed them to, even if it was against the Viceroy.

And then, as Howard released her altogether and she found herself facing the Viceroy in what was to be her final few free moments, she thought of Gregor. She thought of his face, his smiling mouth, his impartial laugh, his glorious hands, his heroic sword, his calm demeanor, his courageous fear. She thought of the scars that covered his chest, arms, and legs from battles fought for _her_ city. She thought of what he had left behind so that he could come down and rescue her from an unassailable enemy, not even with the confirmation that she was alive. She thought of his bravery, his determination, his will, his tears, his love. She thought of his sacrifices, his wounds, his lost comrades. She thought of his pain, his agony, his sorrow, his guilt. She thought of the way her heart exploded with joy any time she used to catch the slightest hint of his laughter escaping his harsh throat. She thought of his mother, his father, his two sisters, all of which she loved through him. She thought of how he protected and guarded her against everything, never allowing the slightest bit of pain to come to her if he could prevent it. She thought of leaning against him, on those flier rides so long ago. She thought of sitting with him on the floor of the museum, as their heads tilted closer and closer to each other until their lips met. She thought when she met him, showing off even at that point with a double flip from Aurora. She thought of when she dreamt of him when he was gone, in vivid detail. She thought of his fingers and palms dancing across her skin in their limited contact five days before. She thought of how he couldn't bring himself to watch her declare herself to another man.

Mareth had begun to recite his part, watching them both as he spoke from memory. The crowd was utterly silent, watching in awe what was transpiring before them. Luxa found herself gazing hatefully into Arthur's eyes as she watched him return the favor, only with as close to fondness as she knew he could muster. She wanted nothing more than to run back down the aisle and far away, but she knew she would never be able to bring herself to do it if she tried. Duty compelled her to hold her place.

The lines were coming to a close. She wasn't even listening, too caught up in her worries and fears as the moment of truth came ever closer and closer. She despairingly heard Mareth running his part to a close, preparing to seal the fate of his kingdom with the highest act of servitude he would ever come about to perform. She heard the final few lines slip past his steady lips, and then even chanced a glance when it seemed he had finished.

Her heart almost stopped beating. Only the vows remained. Then she would be married. To the wrong man.

But Mareth didn't recite the vows. Instead, he directed his gaze out to the audience, sweeping left and right and to the farthest corners and the deepest crooks of the congregation, as Luxa realized what he was about to say and realized she may have a chance out. "If anyone in attendance has reason to oppose this marriage, thou shalt speak now or forego any such chance."

No one spoke.

No one said a word, and even as Luxa's heart leaped at the chance nothing happened. She didn't dare to tear her gaze away from Arthur's, but in her mind she pleaded for anybody to say _anything_. There was a way out, and no one was saying a word on her side. No one knew what her complete mind was, except for one person who was most likely far above their heads at the moment. No one was going to come to her rescue this time.

The pause stretched into the room, and Mareth waited patiently, almost as if expecting someone to speak up. As it stretched farther, Arthur turned his face to regard the general with impatience. Finally, ignoring the Viceroy completely, he spoke up again. "Anyone?"

The way he spoke almost said to the outside crowd that he was hoping for someone to speak up. Arthur took it as such, and shot him a harsher glare. Had Luxa not been doing her best to look at nothing but Arthur, she would have sent a gratifying but useless look in his direction. Just as the silence stretched once more into awkwardness, though, and Mareth let out a barely comprehendible sigh, from the farthest distance of the room a single, strong voice broke the coldest quiet.

"Yes. _I_ have reason to oppose the marriage."

Luxa heard the voice, heard everyone in the crowd swing around appalled to look at who had spoken. She didn't need to look, though. She had recognized the voice. Managing to turn away from Arthur at last, she turned her head ever so slowly to face the speaker, disbelieving and barely believing her own eyes when she realized who had come to her rescue. A moment later, though, an exasperated, skeptical, and loving smile had broken across her face.

Gregor stood at the threshold of the doors she had entered only moments before. He still wore the same clothes she had seen him in the last time they had encountered each other, in her quarters, only now she could see several dangerous looking tears in them. He was sweating, hard, and the scars at his neck had ripped back open, bleeding freely down onto his clothes. In his hand he clutched a shining, metallic device she was unfamiliar with. He had obviously been engaged in something dangerous recently, but she had no idea to tell as to what. Right now, though, nothing could have made her happier than his appearance.

Arthur was less pleased. "What is this?!" he shouted, turning harshly into Gregor's direction and almost taking a step forward.

Mareth instantly silenced him with a raised hand, and once the near-king had been subdued into silence the general stepped ahead of the couple and addressed the Overlander with a glare that displayed intensity, anger, and relief all in one. In a painfully impartial tone, he said, "We are hearing your claim, Overlander. On what grounds do you base your opposition?"

Luxa almost choked, realizing that Gregor probably had nothing more than fleeting love to work his argument on, something which Mareth would never find heavy enough to call off the ceremony for. To her surprise, however, and utter delight, horror, and fear, he only raised his head defiantly into the air, letting the blood on his neck shine for all to see, and spoke his claim in barely controlled rage.

"On the grounds, General, that his lordship, the Viceroy conspired with the cutters and assisted them in the abduction of Queen Luxa."

Luxa immediately jumped back a step from Arthur as a shocked flutter of whispers flew uncontrollably into the crowd. Arthur himself was staring down Gregor with a look of pure and cold hatred, and had lost all interest in all else. Behind her, she heard Howard curse and Vikus gasp.

"Order!" Mareth shouted into the room, and instantly all fell silent. Fixing his glare harshly on Arthur to make sure nothing was said by the Viceroy, he turned once more to face Gregor, now with a harshly raised eyebrow and widened eyes. "Overlander, you make a very steep claim. You must understand that we consider that vastly implausible. We must ask you to present proof of your statement."

"Do you have proof?" Arthur sneered out, earning tow extremely disapproving glares, one from Mareth and the other from Gregor. Undeterred, he stared down the Overlander with the fiercest of stares Luxa had ever seen over his face. As she watched his face curl evilly up on her love, Luxa felt her heart drop once more to shambles, as she felt the world begin to close around an inevitable close once more.

But then she once more turned her head back to Gregor. His face didn't change. He was still utterly emotionless. His voice kept its tone, never losing pitch or velocity. However, as he took a deep breath and prepared his response, Luxa saw something she had never seen in such intensity before deep inside Gregor's eyes, even across the meters and meters of aisle. Pure, strong, unbreakable, bare confidence. And her heart leapt as he spoke his reply.

"Yes. I do."

**END OF PART 3**


	25. 24: For The Lost

**Thanks to reviewers laxgoal31, tcat75, pomplamouse, wwlego, shadowblade546, Citizen of Fantasy at Heart (x4), Castaway5, rgplmr-whats a space bar? (x2), sarah, november21, Alot Like Gregor, and The One Called Demetra.**

**Bum Bum Bum!!!!!!! I'm pretty sure you guys all saw that coming but oh, well. Got some bad news for yeah. Won't be finding out **_**exactly**_** what the Viceroy did for a while. See the Historian's Note below, and please don't kill me. Here's Part 4, and rejoice in the knowledge that we are now halfway through this story and finally seeing some of its real colors. Chapter 24 for you to Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't even own this computer I'm on...**

**PART 4**

**MENDING SOUL**

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**Historian's Note: The entirety of Part 4 takes place simultaneously with the final two chapters of Part 3, although the five days during which you are given no explanation of Luxa's actions are explored through Gregor here. This part picks up exactly after Gregor departs from Luxa's quarters after Chapter 21: And Hope To Die. **

**24**

**For The Lost**

His life was over.

He couldn't go on.

Nothing had ever caused him so much pain as what he had just done. Not Ripred's death, not his mother's violation, not hearing Luxa's possible fate while sitting on the grimy floor of a New York alley. Nothing had ever taken as much effort from him as it took for him to take the steps away from Luxa and out of her door.

He had learned something new: his heart really had survived those five years of hell.

Except now he had killed it again.

With deliberate, anxious, heavy strides, Gregor fled the wing, willing himself to put as much distance between his agonizing soul and its cause as quick as he possibly could. His mind and pain were both overflowing his muscles, telling everything to shut down and grieve, but he pressed himself hard not to allow it, trying to get away from everything before he became a creature of his warring and deadly feelings.

Life sucked.

He had cleared three separate wings of the castle and abruptly found himself in a strange, open storage house that was silently empty. After confirming this, Gregor cautiously threw himself into the nearest wall and let his emotions slide into their full anger and grief.

What was he now?

Weak, powerless. He thought maybe tears would come to him, now that he was completely alone. His chest felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside, as his heart made a desperate attempt to leave its host. If he could have, he would have let it. He didn't desire to live any longer. Still, he would never be stupid enough to take his own life away. To him, suicide was a last resort of cowards and runners away from lives where they knew nothing of the world around them. He may have been a failure, but Gregor knew he was no coward.

It was always at times like this, when he felt bad enough to consider doing things he would never even _begin_ to _wonder_ about actually _thinking_ about under the most normal circumstances. Thoughts always seemed to pop into his head now that wouldn't even make sense to his good side.

But above all, now, even through his depression and agony and heart-wrenching destruction, a single and mortifying thought came into his head.

_What now?_

He had told Luxa he had matters to finish before he ran away from everything below the ground. It hadn't completely been a lie. He had people he wanted to say goodbye to, individually, where he would take his time to make sure everything he wanted was to be said. He wanted to visit certain places of importance in Regalia, as he would almost certainly never be setting foot there again. He wanted to feel the things he would never get the chance to experience one more time as he looked at the simple living, the hard enemies, the primitive beauty.

He didn't want to do any of that anymore, though. His goodbyes were said, not spoken but felt by all around. Even to himself, he was already gone, no longer conscious to the world surrounding him. He didn't have enough self to see even his friends of the Underland anymore.

So what reason did he have to stay any longer?

A promise. He had told Luxa he would at least _try_ to make it to her wedding. Her wedding where she would be wedded to someone not himself. A different someone. Someone else. Not him.

Why did he say that? It was the last thing he wanted.

_Because it was Luxa who asked_.

Duh. That made sense. He couldn't refuse her anything, except in the case where the "anything" was him. Then he had to make an exception to his feelings, and deny her what they both wanted more than the world itself, Over, Under, and whatever the hell laid in between.

All in all, Gregor was confused, disoriented, and utterly hellified. He also added pathetic in his own mind. He was a rager, a creature born to fight to the death to protect those he loved and what he believed was good... and here he was, sobs beginning to enter his actions as he leaned hard against the cold wall from his uncomfortable slouch on the ground. Love was supposed to make you strong, keep you on your feet and fighting, not reduce you to convulsions of guilt and agony in a useless heap cowering behind dull shelves and appliances. It was supposed to hold you together, the glue of life.

So then just why the hell was it tearing him apart instead?

Nothing was supposed to beat love. Ironically, Gregor chose that instant to think of Ripred, and an ancient quote popped to mind of a guest traveled long ago. _Mutual need is a strong bond. Stronger than hatred. Stronger than love._

Gregor didn't question the words. He just wondered if they were there because they were true or because the facts they rose from couldn't be explained through any more means than that which they were already utilized through. Ripred had been wise, but even he had never said anything Gregor had ever taken as so true. Hatred and love had always seemed to run a short line with the rat, and many times Gregor had found himself wondering which side of that line his mentor was toeing at that particular moment in time.

Remembering the quote, Gregor instantly turned to remember the exact, short conversation that had followed it, starting with a question spawned from his deep subconscious belief in all-powerful love.

_Do rats love?_

_Oh, yes, we love ourselves very much._

Gregor had found himself contemplating those words several times over the next several years, even moving into time after he had seen Ripred interacting affectionately with Lizzie. He had never really understood the rat's emotions, but he had never believed that love was completely absent from the great rager other than arrogance. Wisdom came with many things, but ignorance of emotions was rarely one of them. Gregor had always believed that deep down, on some level unknown to everyone around him, Ripred loved the same way he felt pain. And, deeper, on his own level he refused to even imagine speaking aloud to someone, Gregor had formed an image of himself through the rat's eyes, and came out with a startling idea that he was regarded in a strange light as a distant, favorite son.

Not that he believed it entirely. And now that Ripred was gone, it didn't matter anymore. Which brought his thoughts right back to where they began, with a solemn question that he had no answer to.

_Why am I still here?_

And still he came up with no answer. Goodbyes were said, his love was lost, and pain was victorious once more. He was sitting in a storeroom trying to arrange his devastated thoughts into coherence with as much dignity as was possible, which also so happened to be a very little amount.

He quickly searched all his emotions for any explanation. Pain: penultimate, devastating, not the answer. Love: grieving, destruction, lost, not the answer. Happiness: Out of the question completely. Loyalty: lasting, agonizing, plausible...

Loyalty.

Loyalty. Loyalty to what? Everything he had ever known in the Underland was either gone, changing, or evil, and nothing would seem to be able to ever change that. He was alone, without the allies of Howard or Mareth or even Vikus that he once had. He didn't have Ripred anymore, and the only one he had ever truly felt utterly inferior to was the rat, the one who could best him and who he respected with nothing but the most revered silence and attention.

Ripred.

_Ripred_.

He was bound by Ripred's memory. His only friend who had died beneath an honorable fight as opposed to rapid stupidity or sufferable arrogance. The comrade who he had believed would survive until the Overland above would choose to come crashing to the Underland below and destroy all.

And the duty the rat had left with Gregor when he died.

Immediately, instantly, Gregor's mind woke up to blaring sirens and screaming klaxons of imaginary oblivion, and intelligent contemplation returned with a rush into his fragile and overworked mind with a fierce intensity.

A traitor inside Regalia, Ripred had said. Someone who was smart. Most likely someone who was smarter than he or she looked, or else the acute rager senses of the rat would have been able to pick up on the treachery before his death came around. Gregor instantly began to compile data, his promise to Ripred nearly forgotten in the pain that was his passing onto the next world, wherever that rested, high or low in the world around.

Suspects jumped to mind, clues and observations began to loop in and around each other faster than Gregor could organize inside his head, and ideas both preposterous and plausible jumped here and there as explanation after explanation begged to be acknowledged.

At the same time he was realizing how much data was needed for investigation, Gregor came around to see that he remained alive in his soul for only one more reason: to see Ripred's unfinished mission to the end, and to see justice brought upon the evil person who had assisted in Luxa's abduction and subsequent torture.

And who ever it was, when Gregor got his hands on them, they would pay for their actions in the most agonizing way he would be able to find. Through the wrath of two ragers, one who would be issuing and one who would never again be able to make attendance.

His conscience was clearly appalled by his lack of ethics, but Gregor had long ago defied himself and his rules to protect his family and life, and with the most precious thing in his world threatened now, he wouldn't hesitate to do so again. His actions would not be justified, but he wouldn't be deterred from them by any means. He had come too far and would go a lot farther before that was every forced upon him.

Names began to pop into his head. Theories, possibilities, anything that Ripred had ever told him of anything before he descended once more into the Underland for the last time. In the space of a few seconds, he ran his mind over ever conscious memory he had since making the journey, throwing everything quickly together in a jumbled mess, choosing to file now and organize later, anxious to pull out any flaws or hints before he made any sense of anything. Nothing could be missed. Nothing could go wrong, or off, or there would be the chance of it happening again, and Gregor refused to allow the possibility of that to happen.

A terrified part of his mind urged him to run back to Luxa's quarters at that very moment, insistent upon her being under constant protection at every moment. A moment later, though, he knew that he couldn't. Any action on his part that seemed suspicious would only anger Luxa more, and it might even tip off the assailant inside that he was on to them. The very need for secrecy was the only reason Ripred had told no one of his distrusting ideas before his death. In a strange way, even, it had been what had ended up killing him.

No, he had to act on his own, in the dark. Or, if he absolutely had to gain assistance, it had to be subtle, almost nonexistent, or at the very least extensively never-happened type of help, where only he and his certain allies knew of his attempts. Even that would be risky, though. He had been gone from the Underland for five years. Anyone who he would have trusted half a decade ago could well be on the other side by now.

Names flashed into his head. _Could be anyone..._ York, Miravet, Athena, Stellovet, Temp, Nike, Nerissa, Vikus, Mareth, Aurora, the Viceroy, _Howard_, _Hazard_...

He had no one to trust. He could do nothing. He could eliminate a few, but only on speculation. He suddenly felt like it was a battle he was already losing, even before he knew he was fighting one or even preceding the battle itself. The possibilities were nearly endless. It might be someone less important, a simple servant or cook. A flier who procured access into the palace nonchalantly. An ambassador of a non-ally species who was cunning enough to be gifted in the arts of stealth and deception.

His work appeared endless, and he knew that it would only grow greater as he went. Things were never what they appeared, and even there he could go on suspicion alone.

And he would be battling through emotions, desperate to free himself of any agony he would experience. Never before had he launched himself into anything of such consequence, something so big it would affect so much more than just his own being. No matter how he felt of someone, until proven otherwise they were all equal suspects, and nothing would be able to convince him elsewhere until he was assured of it by his own reasoning.

What he would do when he found the cutters' accomplice didn't bother him at the moment, and not even nearly what it should have. He was confident he had enough anger to deal with it when the moment chose to arise.

He had little to go on. Practically nothing. And so he would start with the simple clues and move on from there. Only time and truth would tell, and as of yet he only had limited of one and none of the other, and so he would have to commence for them both before he ran out of the one.

He wouldn't leave until he was finished. He wouldn't leave the problem behind.

He could. It would be easy; to just walk away and leave the Underland and never worry a moment more of its affairs.

But he knew that he would never forget, and he would never forgive himself for giving Luxa back to the possible evils that wronged her the first go-around. He couldn't let that happen. So he would stay until the job was finished, one way or another.

Evil would be stopped, whether he was on his own or he was backed by Regalia. He was a rager. A warrior. Maybe not a hero, but probably something more. A protector, of all. And he would hold himself to that. Indefinitely. Indivisibly. Permanently.

So, with a resolve that would have made even Ripred take a step back in awe, Gregor hoisted himself off the cold, lonely ground and up to his feet. With a perfectly straight face that betrayed no sign of his inner fight, he brushed off the dust and dirt that had accumulated on his pants.

Finally, after making sure he was ready to face anything the world was about to throw at him, Gregor turned and left the storeroom, not looking back to the dark room of bottled despair.

His road was one way, and he refused to go back.


	26. 25: Pride Precedence

**Thanks to reviewers Castaway5, shadowblade546, november21, The One Called Demetra, CrAnKiTuP, Sarcastic Ninja, justa-critic, and Luny Lovegud.**

**Hmmm.... something is afoot! What shall happen in investigations long and far and near and cold and horrible and... and... you get the picture, right? Chapter 25 for ye. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Don't flatter me.**

**25**

**Pride Precedence**

Gregor practically threw himself down staircase after staircase in his haste to be in motion with his task. His list of suspects was small, but if the few he believed to be the best possible actually turned out to be true, then his time to solve the mystery was drastically limited.

He didn't know where he would find the person he was suddenly looking for, but he was almost certain that person wouldn't be in the high levels of the palace with the situation and possibility of war hanging just around the corner of reality. Most likely, Gregor would find his target either training as hard as was possible or finding someone to beat until they trained as hard as was possible.

His mind was barely with him as he bolted out of the castle, taking care to avoid anyone who he hadn't the time to meet and making sure that he met no one who would detain him for periods extending into the time of separate minutes at a time. His investigation was doomed to be so long and problematic that already he was losing desperately needed time to come to a complete answer.

It took him a good five minutes to find a way down to the city level below, and another five to shake off the guards who tried to follow him away. He was generally sure everything he was about to do was legal even under what little Regalian law he was about to cross, but even still he wasn't anxious to be tailed everywhere his investigation was about to pull him, especially since anyone could be the one to blame. He had no trust for anyone. Not Howard. Not Vikus. Not even Hazard, as things seemed to go.

Regalia's city layout had changed a good deal since the five years he had been absent from its glorious streets, but his frequent visits to the training arena within the past few days had given him a rough map of the newest and oldest streets alike, and he was able to navigate himself through the rough maze with only the most limited of difficulties. Especially sine his destination just so happened to be that training arena that he had been to so many times in the past.

He found things laid out almost exactly as he had expected them to be. Instead of training as hard as was possible without killing themselves, the soldiers of Regalia were being put through the drills of formation and cooperation, coordination and preparation, and anything else that came along the lines of working with each other in the way of facing off against a common enemy. It would be a necessity if the suspected imminent cutter attack was to come in the numbers of the last one, and if there were less than two, perhaps not even one, ragers to assist in the defense of the city. At the moment, though, he didn't have time to care about the soldier formation or scrutinize their every mistake in his mind or worry about their obvious insecurity and the threat they themselves would pose to Regalia in simple defense. He needed the man who stood stop the balcony overlooking the field.

For once, Mareth was silent. York, still in Regalia for the wedding, was down on the field taking his place in yelling at the soldiers, and was assisted by a few more minor lieutenants in the duty. The high general was hobbling above, staring down with hard and clouded eyes at his men on the field, darting left and right in concentration. Gregor could see the gears in his mind grinding together at light speed already, and suddenly he was nervous to proceed. His resolve, however, kept him taking step after step towards Mareth, and he found that as he got closer he was already beginning to rehearse in his mind exactly the few choices of words that would get the general to listen to what he had to say.

Like his men, Mareth was dressed fully for battle. His armor, as was custom for a Regalian general, was a cold gray, matching the rough shade of it that resided in many of the cave walls that spread out from the city. His leggings were seemingly custom-made, molding perfectly to every turn of his body. The hauberk and mail combination that he wore on his chest and arms looked stronger, but also heavier. Unlike the generals of above countries, he was dressed to fight, not stand back and let his men do the dirty work.

Gregor had never been intimidated by Mareth, mostly because he had known the Underlander back when they were both unimportant and simple friends. Still, seeing the silent, crippled man standing ready to fight with his troops through the thickest and the thinnest of any battle, the Overlander felt a strange side of awe that just told him that this was someone who was determined, whether from one thing or another.

He made his steps clear against the smooth stone flooring of the balcony as he stepped atop it and made his approach, making it announced so as not to unintentionally surprising his comrade. As he got closer, his officers turned threateningly, reaching for weapons, but once they saw it was only he they uneasily lowered their hands. Mareth himself never turned, keeping his eyes eternally locked on the training going on below.

Gregor walked on, slowing his pace until he was directly adjacent to Mareth on the opposite side of his officers, overlooking the field and breathing deeply as he watched the proceedings. Neither of them said a word. Mareth didn't even give any sign that he was aware to Gregor's presence.

Finally, Gregor became agitated and fidgeted slightly. Brisk in the cold, underground air, he turned to Mareth and spoke his name. When he received no reaction, he tried again in a firmer voice. "Mareth. I would speak with you."

The general didn't reply, but Gregor turned away, knowing his words had been heard. He took a few steps away, nearing the edge of the platform and making a show of trying to observe the soldiers below as they drilled. After a good few moments of silence, where Mareth's officers, to their credit, remained silent, the general finally spoke a reply. "What is it, Gregor? As you can see, I am quite busy."

"Yes, I can see," Gregor replied softly, running a hand across the rough rail of stone that separated him from a short fall to the field below. "But also, I can say that I have something to peak your interest."

"Is it necessary? Important?" Mareth didn't quite sound annoyed, but it sounded clear enough that he didn't want to speak at the moment. Still, Gregor couldn't afford to leave his claims unspoken, and so he attempted to persist even as failure doomed on the horizon.

"I'm sure it is the first. Maybe not even the second. But at the same time, it may be both. Please. Hear me out."

Another silence enveloped the two, while the onlookers could only stare on in confusion, unsure of why the discussion was taking place between their general and the Overlander, all during which the two had their backs resolutely turned to each other. After the pause had stretched into a period that could be defined as lengthy, however, Mareth finally sighed and turned to Gregor. "Very well. Let us speak."

Gregor turned slowly to face him, only relinquishing his gaze to the general after lingering on a faulty swordsman in the eighth row. Letting his eyes dart once to the officers, he toned once, "In private."

Mareth's only reaction was a raised eyebrow, but after another short pause he raised an arm in a short quick gesture. Grudgingly, which was obvious but was doubly meant to be subtle, the officers shuffled away, with light footfalls that were barely audible and never turning their backs on Gregor. They walked slowly around off the balcony and descended slowly onto the field, still glaring up at them as they moved to take a place beside York.

Once they were efficiently obscured in sound from any unwanted attention, Mareth broke his mask slightly and loosened his military posture. He was suddenly restored only as Gregor's friend, ready to address him as such and no longer as the general he needed to be around his inferior ranks. Taking steps to pass Gregor and lean against the rail, he let out a breath and started conversation. "This is obviously of importance to _you_. If it is not necessarily so to me, then I must conclude that this is personal. What can I do to be of service to you?"

For the first time, Gregor hesitated. For all he knew, Mareth could be the perpetrator who assisted the cutters. He severely doubted it; Mareth would have been his first choice besides himself to protect Luxa did the need arise. Still, the possibility was there, and revealing too much might result in him losing any chance of catching whoever it was he was looking for, even if it didn't turn out to be Mareth himself. Words could find ways to snake themselves out of people's mouths and into the wrong minds, especially in the wrong minds were manipulating to receive the words. It was a risk no matter whether or not Mareth was the criminal. Either way, Gregor felt that he couldn't find the proof to uncover such a person alone. Either way, he need help.

"What if I were to tell you that I need your covert assistance in apprehending someone I can't rightly accuse of anything?" Gregor's words were jumbled, mixed, unruly. But they would have to do. They were all he was willing to disclose at the moment.

"What speak you?" Mareth replied with confusion, pushing off to take reverse steps from the rail until he was facing Gregor straight. "Are you asking if I will give you help in catching someone without proof? Why would you have the need to do such a thing? And what would you accuse them of without proof?"

Gregor found himself facing several questions he couldn't answer, not without divulging information he was in no place to release. Turning away from Mareth and leaning over to the rail himself, he sighed before trying to come up with a response. "Forget that, it was a bad starter. Okay, listen. I need your help. I can't tell you why, or how, but there may come a time very soon where I'm gonna need to call on you and you'll have to deliver. Actually, now. I need you now."

"To do what, Gregor?" Mareth retorted exasperatedly.

Gregor sighed again, this time in frustration. Refusing to turn and meet Mareth's gaze, he replied, "I just can't tell you, Mareth."

"Why not?"

Gregor didn't know why. Because you might be the one I'm looking for? That would go over well. He wasn't even sure how Mareth could be any help if he didn't know what he was looking for. Much less because _Gregor_ didn't even know what they would be looking for.

Groaning, still fighting off agony and frustration and utter contempt for everything he had to do, he tried to come up with a final response that would both calm Mareth's curiosity and satisfy his own limits for how much he could say without giving away any details he didn't want to. "Because there are things and forces at work here that I can't think or hope to tamper with. I'm swinging on a thread, Mareth, and if that thread breaks my few leads are gone and what I'm looking for turns to dust. It's not that I'm afraid something'll happen. It's just that right now... I can't trust anyone. Not even you." After a moment's pause, he added, "Not even myself."

Mareth stood staring at him for a long few moments that might even have stretched into minutes before he coughed once and cleared his throat. Taking a step closer, in a manner that was clearly not intentioned to be threatening, he muttered in just a loud enough voice for Gregor to hear, "If you do not trust me, why would you come to me for help? What could I do for you that would do anything? If I would not even know what I was looking for, what could I give to you that would be helpful? Gregor, if I don't even understand what it is I am looking for I would not possibly be able to do anything in the way of whatever it is you are looking for, which, if I may remind you, you have yet to disclose to me. You may be hanging on a thread, but you're not getting your message through to me at all."

For the first time, Gregor tried to see the conversation through Mareth's eyes, where he knew nothing and understood even littler. He could see the part that wanted to know, wanted to help, but even at that Gregor knew he couldn't give anything away. He trusted Mareth, as he had already tried to convey to himself and his friend so many times already, but there was simply too much at stake, both in ways he had tried to explain and ways he was sure he didn't even know. Ripred had given his life, give or take, for this suspicion, regardless if the context was off. The rat had died making Gregor swear to take up the investigation once he was gone. He had told how it would all fall apart if it was forgotten. Gregor had taken him at his word, but now as he shouldered the task he found himself wondering if such a thing was even possible.

He didn't know what to look for. He didn't know where to start. There was someone on the inside who helped to get Luxa out against her will and without her knowing who. They would have to be someone close to her, or with relatively easy access to her quarters and schedule planning. It gave him few suspects, which could have been fortunate, except for the fact that he possessed not a clue on how to conduct an investigation or find a way to rat out whoever it was who was behind the operation. He needed to find a place to start, but even that was unknown to him. What he truly wanted was somebody who had an inkling of anywhere that could possibly lead to a lead, but that would involve someone intelligent (like Mareth) learning necessary information (which Gregor was in no place or mind to release, due to the lack of trustworthiness found even amongst the closest of friends). Such a thing was not something he could do without losing security, and so he found himself at a stuck point. Unless he could truly trust Mareth, and trust him in a way that said he would never doubt him once ever into the future.

So Gregor considered the general. He remembered the old days, when they were still out only for Regalia, running on prophecies. The time after Gregor had first visited Sandwich's room, seen the prophecies laid out ahead of him as he took up the responsibility of being the Warrior long awaited. He recalled the stiff but friendly attitude of the soldier Mareth back then. He remembered how his best Underland friend had always been there, even into future prophecies, even after his leg was lost to duty, something Gregor was sure the man would blame him for but didn't. Even after all the death, destruction and chaos that covered the Underland. Even after he returned and brought only more sorrow with him, in the form of Luxa returning at the price of a fallen, beloved comrade.

If you excluded Luxa from the title of friend, Mareth was the closest Underland friend Gregor had. Maybe even fried anywhere. Hazard was too contained, almost too... selfish. He had changed over the years, whether for better or worse Gregor didn't know. Howard was kind and thoughtful, and a valued comrade and ally, but his mistrust of Gregor for the relationship and bond he held with Luxa had permanently scarred any chance of brother thoughts he had ever contained, even though neither of them wanted it to be so. Ripred would never have been described as a friend by Gregor, but with the loss of his mentor the Overlander found that, besides Luxa, Mareth would be the first one to turn to in a time of need. Such as this one.

But still, so much and so little and things he never understood were at stake over such a wavy conversation as the one he was locked in at the current moment, and perhaps everything that would come of the future of his searching dwelled inevitably in the next few moments, whichever decision he walked away from it with.

To trust, or not to trust. To believe in a friend, or to trust only in one's self to carry out a mission that could affect much more than just a small family or woman. Gregor wanted so much to tell him everything, and scream it out to the world, to just turn in whoever had done the evil that was kidnapping his Luxa away, to subject whoever that was to understanding physical and mental pain alike as he did his best to send them down to the devil with pure and utter hatred. But there was no way he could be sure, that they were both on the same side, with the same intentions, at the same time.

He just couldn't.

"I can't tell you anything else," he replied softly and miserably, struggling to pronounce each word as it escaped his lips. In a strange way, he already knew that he had failed, that he wasn't going to receive the help he needed. "I give you what I can. Now all I can do is beg you to believe me and trust me when I say that I need you. That Luxa needs you. That _Regalia_ needs you. That your city needs you!"

He whirled around as he spoke to face Mareth, but found himself not facing a resolute friend. Instead, the young general stood half-slouched, eyes staring straight across and boring into Gregor's with pure regret. The emotion conveyed was something that Gregor almost believed it impossible, so deep was its realness. It almost made him feel worse. Only almost, though. He believed it was impossible to feel any worse than he did.

Mareth's response came promptly afterward. "Gregor, how can you ask me to trust you, to go joint into something you will not even inform me of... when you will not even trust me? When you cannot even find words to convince me that there will be some measurable benefit, giving me no sign that anything you have said is believable, is real! How can you ask this of me?"

Gregor almost expected it to start raining. The situation could only get worse. They were underground, though, and that was thoroughly impossible. Stuck inside his own cage of words, though, he could only plead with what little he had left in his arsenal of comebacks. "Because you're the only one I can turn to, Mareth. Because you're the only one out here who can give me anything that I could properly use to find what I'm looking for."

"But what the hell _is_ that, Gregor?!"

"I already said----"

"Oh, yes, I know," Mareth growled, turning away and swinging his arms in a violent recreation of Gregor's position. "Too dangerous, not trusting, cannot tell anything. Just maybe consider how I am seeing this. I do not even know what you want, and you are trying to get me to pledge my full cooperation to something I am not sure even exists. Maybe tell me what it is we will be doing before----"

"I already told you!" Gregor snarled, jumping after him angrily. "I can't!"

"Oh, yes, because of why, exactly? You dance around it with words, but you still have yet to tell me exactly why you cannot let me know anything about this!"

"Because telling you could burn the whole thing down before we even started, and anything I could do to set things right in this city could go down in ashes, most likely bringing its queen and family down with it. Because there is simply no way I can get through to you without revealing too much!"

They stood facing each other with hunched, awkward poses, fuming and heaving their breaths and doing their best each to rein in their emotions. They were friends, reduced to a petty argument over trust. The pettiness of the situation, though, was almost necessary for Gregor's purposes, as he saw the need for secrecy and caution and certainness before anything could start to happen. He saw why he needed to do this, for Luxa and for Ripred, and for everyone else. Mareth, however, didn't see any of this. Gregor suddenly realized that all Mareth could interpret from the exchange was him trying to get the general to go along with him on some scheme he didn't even know existed, with an unknown purpose and possibly unknown consequences to everything around them.

In a much quieter voice, Mareth finally spoke a reply, in a soft voice meant to sound relatively soothing and calming. "Gregor, I do not know what you want, but you have to understand this: whatever you do, Luxa cannot come back to you. She has moved on, found another, motioned for the good of her people. Her time with you is long gone. You have to accept that."

Wildly, Gregor took a step back. Only growing angrier at the general's words, he recoiled away from his friend and stared at him with a locked gaze of incredibility and rage. "You think that's what this is about? Me trying to get Luxa back to me?" He halted abruptly, at a loss of words in his fury, not able to convey so much frustration that was building up inside of him.

"Gregor, I know that----"

"No!" Gregor cried, interrupting. He wheeled back to Mareth, stepping forward so that he was right in the general's face as he screamed. "You don't know! You don't know how much pain I'm going through just standing here, instead of running away from everything. You don't know how much pain I've _gone_ through just for this city, much less for my family and my own life, _and_ Luxa's! You don't know how much I need you to help me here! You don't know me at all, Mareth, and don't, for one damn second, make it look like you do!"

He ended in ragged gasps. As he screeched, Mareth had taken several steps backward, away, as he watched his friend retreat into anger and pain and fury as their argument clashed into emotions. His face was contorted in a mixture of grief and disbelief, and he began to shake his head as he stared back at Gregor. Gulping once, the young Underlander looked his Overland counterpart straight in the eye as he replied. "I am sorry, Gregor. You are right; I do not understand you. But one other thing that _I_ know that you do not is that I just cannot help you. Not without proof, not without you even telling me what you are looking for. I just cannot, Gregor. I have too many responsibilities as it is.

"I am sorry. I really am."

On the finality of his tones, Mareth turned and walked away, off of the platform and down to join his officers and York on the training field below. Gregor didn't even watch him go, staring out into empty space as he realized his position. He had no one. No one to help him. No one to comfort him. And no one to offer him any help as he tried to find a betrayer inside a capital city of a species.

Nothing was left for him in Regalia. Not for help, not for comfort. His only friends had left him.

He was alone.


	27. 26: Quiet Allies

**Thanks to all the lovely reviewers in the world: Citizen of Fantasy at Heart, tcat75, Castaway5, november21, shadowblade546 (x2), and deathsinger. **

**So... Gregor's alone... or is he? Read on! Chapter 26. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't know, if I did, why would this be on Fanfiction?**

**26**

**Quiet Allies**

He stayed a long time on that balcony after Mareth left him for the field below.

Just thinking. Thinking furiously. His options had grown few and far in just a very short amount of time, and he was beginning to realize that he might not be able to pull his plan out anymore. With maybe a friendly nudge from others here and there he might get through it. Alone, however, he might as well give up and go home now.

Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure what he would be looking for in Regalia. More likely than not, he would be leaving with the investigation to search places unknown before very long, deprived of clues in the city. A journey that would be most perilous, especially since it looked like he would be making it alone.

Even if he went back to Mareth now, the general would never believe him. There was just too much anger and mistrust between them now. Gregor could try Howard, but, despite the young doctor's brilliance and compassion, he would probably dismiss Gregor's suspicions just as an excuse to get Luxa back to his side, much as Mareth had done for a short period. Hazard was far too young, far too inexperienced, and still far too naive and selfish to be of any assistance. Vikus was out of the question. That left, among humans, the Viceroy. Gregor didn't trust him in the slightest, but even if he did, never in a million years would he go to the man for assistance.

Out of everyone possible for his needs, though, Gregor knew that so few realized exactly how much he cared for Luxa, enough to let her go completely and enough to run through everything he possessed in the sudden chase to keep her safe. Only someone who cared as much for her as he did, which was so great that not even Hazard fit the profile, could truly understand him, and therefore offer their fullest assistance.

And that left only two people, if he was right. One of whom was dead. The other who didn't harbor any love for him.

Oh, well. When life gives you lemons...

He was past old sayings, though. He was more of the action person now, and if throwing himself at the one thing that could help him but would almost certainly repel him was the only thing he could do to keep his love safe, then that was exactly what he was going to do.

Planning was so obscene and obsolete to him, but still he took a few precious moments to map out a small diagram of what his approach would be, followed by his words, and finally his capture of attention and diversion and trust. He wouldn't fail this one. He wouldn't let himself, and somewhere deep inside his gut he already knew that he no longer felt fear at the prospect of failure. Only a rearing, searing anger, glowing with the embers of an inferno of hatred.

Once his idea was complete he disembarked from the harsh, hated stone platform and left the arena without a backward glance. With every step away from it he could feel Mareth's worried glance resting on his back, but he refused the temptation to turn and meet the general's eyes. He had already been failed. There was nothing more to be said through a simple gaze.

Retracing his steps back through the city took even less time than it had taken him to get to the arena earlier. Maybe it was his determination. Maybe it was haste at his lack of time. Actually, though, it was probably simply to fact that his mind was on hyperdrive combined with the fact that the palace could loom over the rest of the city from any angle, guiding him forever back to his destination.

By the time he had gotten back to it, he had taken his best measures to avoid any public places or people and still ended up running into stunned people three separate times. Despite being able to escape, it was starting to grow into annoyance for him the necessity of avoidance from the populace, skirting around them all so that none would delay him with their inspired awe.

It took him a while longer than he had expected, but he was finally able to secure passage above to the palace with a wayward flier, unwilling to use the raising platforms operated by Underlanders and risk detection by unwanted forces. It would do him no good now to be noticed entering the palace. Actually, it would probably be seen as a very bad sign, because it meant that he had already _left_ the palace, which, in turn, meant that he had been doing something outside of it. In the eyes of an Underlander, the number of reasons why he would have left in the first place were few, and almost certainly none of them would be considered anything "good".

By the time he had been returned to the platform Gregor had already comprised a plan. Immediately disembarking and thanking the flier, he proceeded to ask it if it knew the whereabouts of Queen Luxa's bond. It replied in a bored voice that it didn't, regretfully, and Gregor was forced to watch the tired creature fly back off to continue its duties, left to carry out Plan B.

He had only ever heard of the flier wing of the palace, never finding the need or taking the time to visit it. He was able to find it, though, with only minimal difficulty, and managing not to have to halt to ask for directions even once. All it took was a sharp number of twists and turns through the castle corridors, a strong ear, and a nervous adrenaline rush to get there.

It was more or less a single chamber, branching off into vast cavities in the roof where there were perches and alcoves and ledges for fliers to rest. It was only dimly lit, due to the flier's sensitivity to the light, and Gregor had to use a great portion of echolocation to identify the details. Over a hundred bats, give or take a dozen in either direction, occupied the room, flying or landing or standing or hanging upside down, all either proceeding with haste to a certain destination or locked deep in conversation with others. As he entered and stood upon the massive archway that expanded into the cavernous room, almost every flier head turned to him, staring him down with curiosity and suspicion. He said nothing, and over the next few moments the fliers all went back to their conversations, keeping one eye and most likely both of their ears tuned to him.

It only took a few minutes of scanning the long ranks of fliers with his eyes to see that Aurora was not among them. Despite the lighting, he could have known the shape of her body, the arc of her wings, the sleek, golden color of her fur. He had been in love with Luxa for long enough to have taken an extended interest in her bond as well, and he knew that he would never have mistaken the flier for another. She wasn't flying amongst them, or hanging from the ceiling, or standing rigidly on the ground regarding him with a cautious eye.

But Gregor still needed to find her, and he was running out of leads.

With what he hoped looked like undaunted confidence, Gregor slowly approached the nearest pack of fliers. They observed him as he walked with unshielded scrutiny and doubt, but they made no motion to move away. They stood solidly, waiting and waiting as he came to their sides.

Halting several steps away, Gregor barely hesitated before dropping into a polite bow. The fliers, as he expected, didn't return it, but it didn't throw him off of his plan as he stood tall again. He cleared his throat once and then began to speak, "Good day to you. I was wondering if any of you would happen to know where Queen Luxa's bond happens to be at this time."

They were all silent for a moment, regarding him and each other with only gleaming eyes. Finally, a tall one at the front, male and old by his voice and coat, took a short step out from the others and spoke to Gregor. "She has not passed by us for a period of days, Overlander. What interest is she to you at this time?"

"I require her assistance," Gregor replied. "She could be relevant to a certain target I am tracking." He paused for a moment, giving room for a comment should they want to supply one. They did not, and so he added, "Would you happen to have _any_ idea as to where she would find herself at this present time?"

In synchronicity, the entire group shook their heads back and forth only once, never removing their eyes from Gregor's face as they did so. When no other reply was supplied, Gregor nodded and suppressed the temptation to raise an eyebrow. Bowing once more, he said, "Very well. Thank you for your time."

Without waiting for a response and doing his best to ignore the reactions of all of the fliers, most of which had now landed to observe the exchange of words more closely. Their gazes weren't exactly making him uncomfortable, but he was receiving a silent vibe emanating from every single one of them that it would be better for his health if he got out of there as soon as was possible. He chose to take his gut's advice, and began to hightail it away the moment he crossed the archway threshold.

Aurora wasn't in the flier cavern. She wasn't with Luxa. She wasn't training with her fellows out in the fields. As far as Gregor knew, there was only one more possible place she could be. If she wasn't, though, he was out of luck.

Moving with instinct instead of mind, he roamed quickly throughout the palace, careful to avoid anyone who might recognize or delay him, looking for a flier who was generally clueless and quiet. Within ten minutes, he had located one, a middle-aged male named Iapyx. With only a small amount of coercion and ridiculous manipulation, he had convinced the flier to carry him where he needed to go, while managing to not tell him where exactly it was or why he needed to go there.

Getting away without being detected was more difficult, and without giving it away to Iapyx that they _wanted_ to get away without being detected was even harder. After several minutes of watching and echo, however, Gregor located an empty platform and guard window that was big enough for them to get away cleanly, leaving what he hoped was little evidence behind that they had left.

Iapyx wasn't chatty. Gregor was grateful for that, at least. All of his concentration was focused in memory, trying to see in his mind's eye the route he and Ares and Luxa and Aurora had taken multiple times to their secret hideaway, known only to the four of them and Ares' dead first bond. It was the only place he believed Aurora would dare to go alone, in such a daunting time as it was.

For his silence, Iapyx drifted and flew relatively well over the minor air currents that flooded the corridor caverns. Aside from only minimal direction changes, Gregor was able to let the flier navigate completely on his own, up to the point that the Overlander noticed a familiar looking hole in a far high wall of a tunnel.

He directed Iapyx right to it, all the way up to the ledge. Giving only a quick, strict order to the flier to remain exactly there while he explored farther on, Gregor walked into the dark, using echolocation to guide his way without light.

After making sure that his ride obeyed his command of heeling, Gregor slowly walked deeper into the small cavern, into an opening he remembered fondly from a day so very long ago.

He stepped farther out until he was in the very center of the alcove. He clicked for his bearings, and then sniffed the air twice. Nothing unusual jarred either of his acute rager senses: only rocky stenches filled the air, and the walls were perfectly aligned just as he remembered them, apart from a few new cracks and faults in smaller places.

Refusing to believe that he was wrong, he cleared his voice and spoke into the darkness. "Aurora. It's Gregor. We need to talk."

His voice rebounded off of every wall and came back to hit him with force. He ignored it promptly, instead listening for anything moving in the darkness, a response to his beckoning. For a long moment, everything was perfectly still. Then, out of the deepest shadows hidden from the smallest shivers of light into the cave mouth from distant sources, the hard voice of Luxa's bond whispered into Gregor's comprehension. "Why have you come?"

Gregor turned towards her voice, and just as he did Aurora dropped from the ceiling, landing more or less on her hind claws upon the stone ground nimbly. Straightening up, she spoke again. "Why have you come to find me so far from the palace?"

Her golden coat was considerably dimmer than he had expected it to be, covered in dirt and filth and grit enough to equal many days inside the small cave. Taking in the observation, he deflected her inquiry completely and changed the subject quickly. "Why do you find the need to be here, alone, especially at such a time as this?"

Without skipping a beat of either of their different hearts, Aurora ignored his question just like he had hers, and then repeated her own. "Why have you come so far out to here?"

"I find myself in need of assistance," Gregor replied, giving in to her for the sake of progression.

"And that cannot be carried out by another human? Or flier?" Her voice was blank, but beneath its composure he thought he detected a spot of doubt and annoyance, mingled in with exhaustion and pain. He wasn't sure what was in her mind at the moment, but he was pretty sure it was restless.

In response to her following questions, he shook his head slowly. "There are things under my investigation that would best be kept to as few as possible. Secrecy is a must."

"That wasn't really an answer," Aurora said.

"I require a flier for quick travel, preferably one with a keen mind and quick wings. A human would be inadequate, and there are none down here I could trust to carry what I have in mind through, anyway."

For a moment, they stood in silence. Then, without answering, she shuffled past him on hind claws to stand facing the opposite wall. He let her go, knowing she wouldn't be in the mood nor condition to move far enough away. After she had stared into the dark stone for a sufficient period of thought, she called back over her shoulder for her response. "Still, you have yet to explain why to come to me. I cannot leave Luxa, and I am almost certain even you don't trust me."

"True to both excuses," Gregor toned. "Except that you apply to both in different ways. I don't trust you, yes. But you're probably the only creature alive in the entire Underland who cares for Luxa in even a measure that's comparable to me, and for that reason alone I believe you'll help me."

"What does my compassion for my bond have to do with anything?"

Gregor sighed once, making a final check on a decision he had already made. Yes, it would be a risk to tell Aurora of his suspicion. It would usurp his secrecy and opportunity and quite possibly his mission. Then again, however, he was absolutely positive that the flier would never have done anything to betray her bond, and that she would never do anything to betray her. So, with a slight leap of faith, he cleared his throat and turned around to Aurora to continue in an explanation.

"Someone inside Regalia helped the cutters kidnap Luxa. Someone on the inside is a traitor to the city and the queen."

Aurora gasped, but it was one that was purely of disbelief and genuine shock as opposed to speculation. Whirling around to him with wide eyes in the dark, she gawked several times before stringing together a number of coherent words, "How are you certain of this?"

His reply was simple. "Because Ripred was."

Even Aurora knew Ripred well enough to realize the pure certainty of the rat's words. If Ripred said, she wasn't to contradict. There was positivity now, which brought around another question, which Gregor had already identified before she even spoke. "Then what are you trying to accomplish?"

"Catching whoever it was."

"You must know even then I cannot help with that," Aurora said, gesturing with a wing back towards the entrance to the haven. "Even under those circumstances, I cannot leave Luxa behind."

"I know," Gregor said.

"Then of what benefit can I be to you?"

If Gregor could have found it in his broken heart to smile, he would have done so there, staring her right in the eye as an equal being, maybe even a friend, as opposed to an enemy or adversary on the same side. "Because you can give me the name of a flier whom you would trust with Luxa's life, and therefore mine, who would be able to assist me in the ways I require."

His words took a long minute to sink in. First Aurora's face was impassive, then confused, then slightly speculative, then finally, after Gregor's patience was nearly tested to its limit, understanding. There was only a brief thinking stage later before she finally looked back to him and spoke again. "Even still with those explanations, I would find it very difficult for you to trust me in such a way as this. Is there a special reason why you came to _me_ for this?"

Gregor instantly turned his gaze to his boots. "You… just happen to be my… last resort. No one else I trust would help me."

A smirk flitting across furry features, Aurora straightened up, once more plunging into thought. "So you need a flier necessary for your means? One that you believe I would trust enough to keep the operation a general secret?" Gregor nodded once to each question, and she continued. "There are very few fliers that fit that description. Even fewer that I think you would approve of."

"If it's all the same to you, sooner would be better than later," Gregor groaned, with only the slightest edge of irritation in his voice. "My time is limited, and I would really not waste its preciousness in waiting."

Aurora pondered with her mind for another long moment, and then finally came out with an explanation. "I have a cousin. Eris, after her grandmother's uncle, born to my mother's eldest brother and his mate. We were close to each other when we were young, before I bonded with Luxa. She grew distant after I left, not bonding with a human of her own, joining a militant force instead. She is not what you consider to be high standard quality, but she would fit your purposes, and I do not believe she would fail you in a time of need."

Gregor had barely considered for a moment before responding. "Do you trust her?"

"With my life."

Risks and overbearing and necessary evils flashed into his mind, just as he began to contemplate how far the operation he was about to enter would take him, all the while wondering if this flier would truly turn out to be what he needed and would have to rely upon if he was to return again once he set out. So many factors weighed down upon such a devious thing as uncertainty of trust. Finally, though, he accepted what he had. "Where can I find her?"

"You will not," Aurora replied. "She lurks in deep places, where few know how to find her. Fortunately, I am one of those people. I will set off, find her, convince her. It might not be easy, but I will get it done. She owes me many favors. I will arrange for her to meet you on the large main platform at the palace before waking hour tomorrow in Regalia."

But Gregor shook his head, disliking the time frame agreed upon. "I don't have the time to wait until tomorrow. It must be today."

"I _will_ need time to convince her, much less find her," Aurora rebuked. "I can have her meet you no earlier than tomorrow morning, I'm afraid. It is the best I can do for you at this time if what you say is true."

"No," Gregor persisted stubbornly, lolling his head back and forth like a vibrating wire. "I don't have the time to waste an entire night. There is no way for that. The latest time I'll allow to meet her is at the twilight hour tonight. No later. Please."

Aurora hesitated, weighing options. Gregor knew convincing Eris would apparently be just as difficult as Luxa's bond spoke, or it would not be such a problem as it was. Still, he didn't have enough time to waste so many hours of the day. Luxa was only five rotations of the earth away from being wed, and, despite his promise to her, he would rather have gotten far, far away, after solving the mystery that was his current investigation.

Finally, Aurora spoke, "I will do what I can, but you have no assurances. Be there at the twilight hour, and hope that she appears."

"How can I identify her?"

"Believe me, you will know her when she appears."

Aurora began to glide onto her way out of the small cave, when Gregor spoke up in a final afterthought. "You have been here for the past several days? Why? What are you escaping by coming here?"

Aurora again hesitated, halting in her prints, startling up a small cloud of dust as she did so. Thinking carefully through her response, she finally came out and told him the straight, plain truth. "It was Luxa. She was not herself. I blame you mostly for that, actually; she was too overcome by grief for me to comfort, like bonds are supposed to do. And then, when she did get out of the infirmary... I just could not be there. I was a coward. I must at least try to help you, for her sake. I lost her, and when she got back I did nothing to make up for that mistake. It is time I repay the debts I owe."

She started to go again, and this time Gregor let her go, waiting a moment before following her. He caught up to her just as she reached the mouth of their cave tunnel. Just as she was passing Iapyx, who still stood waiting patiently where he had been left, he called out again. "You're trusting me. Just, out of curiosity, why now?"

Hesitation had disappeared. "Because you love her more than anything on this earth. More than life. More than family. Because of that, I know you would never lie or trust this as anything except the truth. And because of that, and your love, I find myself trusting you."

She nodded once to Iapyx, who bowed in return, and then leaped out of the opening, out into the air. Her wings unfurled instantly, and she glided away with strong strokes off into the distance. Gregor watched her go, uncertainty filling him. At the same time, though, he felt more satisfied than he had in weeks. Realizations flooded into him as he watched Aurora's golden coat disappear into the distance, but only one seemed to catch on his mind.

Life for him was about to get a lot more hectic.


	28. 27: Final Check

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: laxgoal31 (x2), Castaway5, november21, shadowblade546, and Luny Lovegud.**

**The plot thickens… Chapter 27. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: You know it's a bad age in time when it's required for you to have a disclaimer every single chapter…**

**27**

**Final Check**

Gregor had Iapyx fly him back to the city, and then promptly dismissed the flier with nothing except his gratitude. Exactly as he expected, Iapyx went without complaint, not even shooting a death glare into Gregor's direction when he thought the Overlander wasn't looking.

For the first time in a long while, Gregor found himself at a lack for anything to do. He actually had time to waste, up to the hour where he would meet Eris for the first time and embark upon the journey that could be his ultimate undoing or epic mission. There was no one he needed to be saving, he wasn't about to go scrounge through the streets for pocket change and lost coins, and not once did he get that inescapable urge to run to check the city defenses. He was alone, with his mind and his pride, and he didn't have a clue of what to do with his time.

What was more, he didn't even like the fact.

Before he could let his mind wander into undesired places, he began to think of other things he could do that would help him towards his goal, ones that he could accomplish without leaving Regalia. Or, more preferably, the palace. The less distance he gained away from his later target, the better.

It took a long time before he finally came to a resolution, but finally he decided that he might as well take a last look around the palace, as he wasn't sure if he would be returning to it before anything of his investigation was relevantly complete. While he was at it, he decided to see if he could gather any clue as to how Luxa was taken in the first place, in case it might prove significant later on.

Thinking along these lines, Gregor put together the facts he knew. By her own description, Luxa hadn't been conscious when she was taken. She had told anyone who had cared to ask that she was observing upon a platform the battle below when she was knocked out from behind. Previously, everyone had believed that it had simply been a quiet cutter from behind overrunning her position. Now, however, Gregor realized that it had most likely been the suspected perpetrator, sneaking up from behind and hitting her hard over the back of the head. Moving with his mind, he acknowledged the fact that it must have been someone trusted amongst the palace folk, for whoever it was to have gained such access to a position of the queen without anyone having seen them or have been suspicious.

He thought of those exact accusations forming in his mind, and his list of suspects narrowed down farther. Still, nothing added up. His information was lacking. He needed more of it.

Without much further decision, Gregor immediately set off out into the palace, looking for someone who might know anything. At this point, anything that could be in any way relevant would be nice.

It took him less than ten minutes to find a servant who could tell him Luxa's exact position during the abduction, while not telling another soul he had inquired in the first place. The short man was unfamiliar to Gregor, but he gave off the information truthfully, and Gregor didn't doubt his word for a moment.

Despite the quickness of finding the location in his mind, it took him a good thirty more minutes to do so in real time. He wanted to find it without anyone in the palace realizing he was doing it, and therefore growing in suspicion, all of which meant that he couldn't inquire for directions on his way. It was completely up to the description the helpful servant had given him to find his way there.

Eventually it did, although it took many right turns and comebacks to do it. Gregor had to jump to hide several times as well to escape the notice of soldiers and patrollers, those he would not want to run into under any circumstances.

He walked through three gray, stone doorways and opened up on to one of the smallest platforms he had ever seen in Regalia. Guessing alone on its size, he estimated it was less than thirty feet by thirty feet, immensely tiny by flier standards. At its low height and perfect placement, though, it presented a perfect view of the majority of the city below, from the deserted streets just under the lip of the ledge of the platform out over the buildings and training grounds to the gaping hole of destruction that represented the cutter invasion. Everything could be seen. In vice versa, though, that also meant that whoever was standing on this platform could, in turn, be seen by everyone.

Which made Gregor wonder how no one could have seen and stopped Luxa's abduction, and why she was alone on such a platform in the first place.

On the ledge, about forty feet above the guarded street below, he crouched down, spreading his mind and gaze about the fields and buildings ahead in an attempt to bring himself back to that day where Luxa had been taken, even while in reality he had been far above the city in a rundown home when it had actually happened. He pictured the cutters streaming as fast as was possible towards the palace. He pictured the fliers and human soldiers desperately trying to hold them off. He tried to put himself in Luxa's eyes, seeing and despairing as her city came under siege.

For the first time, Gregor actually wondered what the goal of the cutter attack had been: if it was a mission specifically designed to capture Luxa, or if they had just come to reek havoc and had run for the hills when they realized they had stolen an extremely valuable hostage. Either was plausible. Neither was more likely than the other without proof.

For someone to have even come up behind Luxa without her detecting it was improbable enough, but with not one warrior of the field even seeing it occur it was even less likely. Then there was the way of handing her over to the cutters without fault, sight, or mistake, and every one of those happenings were more outrageous and crazed than those previous. Suffice it to say, he wasn't sure of what he had, followed by the fact that he wasn't in the slightest sure of himself. To call it a whim was an understatement. Already, he was jumping on a random nerve impulse from the deepest corners of his subconscious brain.

Of course, that wasn't the only reason he was jumping.

"Is there something out here that you require assistance with, Overlander?"

Only Gregor's rager instincts kept him from jumping out of his skin, and as it was he nearly fell off of the ledge in shock. Quicker than his surprise, though, he had righted himself and screeched his way to his booted feet, a hand sweeping to his scimitar in preparation for him to wrench it speedily from its sheath. He should have been proud of his reaction, even more so because it wasn't needed, but when he saw who it actually was who had snuck up upon him he felt nothing but shame and rage.

"I startled you, Overlander, I apologize," toned the Viceroy, a look of pure innocence and apology filling his face. The feeling was so genuine that Gregor could almost convince himself that the man meant it, but just something in the subtle way he spoke and just an unsatisfying feeling of mistrust told him that there was nothing but quiet politeness behind the voice offering.

Straightening up, Gregor released his sword and resisted the impulse to curl his fingers into fists. It was all he could do to keep an intense scowl from his face, and smiling was completely out of the question. "Think nothing of it, Viceroy."

A caring smile once more filled the Viceroy's face, one borne of much experience in the way of reassurance and prosperity. It was a great symbol of tranquility and peace, and instantly Gregor felt utterly disgusted by it. He felt like a young child, on a playground, unable to match the skill levels of an older boy. It made little sense, but he felt outmatched and inferior, and that feeling did nothing except increase his sudden hatred of the man.

Completely oblivious to his discomfort, the Viceroy bowed before straightening up once more, the same damned expression on his face. "Very well, I thank you. Now, is there some reason you are out here where I may offer you assistance? Unless you are just out to receive some air and gather thoughts."

His cheery attitude annoyed Gregor to no avail, and it took a great deal of his control to hold back a punch and keep his composure at the same time, while fathoming a reply spontaneously. "I am afraid my problems are my own, sir. Assistance is neither needed nor wanted, but I assure you, if I find myself to require something, you will be the first person I come to for assistance."

He was lying through his teeth, and was pretty sure it was interpreted as such, but still Arthur did nothing except widen his grin and bow once again. It felt like a false conversation, displayed artificially between them both, neither completely serious about their statements, or so it seemed, while both went along with it as though nothing at all was off. "As you wish. If I may be so bold as to ask, however, _why_ are you up here?"

"A personal matter," Gregor said. _More or less the truth_. "Please think nothing of it. It is of no consequence to anyone but myself."

For the third time of the very slight and increasingly annoying conversation, the Viceroy nodded, sweeping his arms in strange gestures which Gregor couldn't connect to their words. He felt slightly backed into a corner, standing upon the ledge while Arthur still filled almost the entire entranceway out onto the platform. Effectively, the Viceroy had him trapped, although there was no reason why Gregor had reason to see it that way.

"Overlander," the Viceroy began again, snapping Gregor from his thoughts with the much-hated voice. His grin had disappeared, replaced by an intensely serious face, staring him down in a way that almost made him fidget. "I never had a chance to offer my thanks. Allow me to do so now. You rescued Queen Luxa from the cutters. There is a debt I now owe you that is too large for me ever to hope to pay."

The entire speech caught Gregor completely off guard, because it sounded naturally feeling. For a very brief moment he was completely lost for words, but just pure suspicion and disbelief soon put him back on his feet. Swallowing once discreetly, he replied, "Your thanks is received warmly, Viceroy, but I wasn't the only one who rescued her. Ripred did as much, if not more, as I ever did, and he paid the ultimate sacrifice for his duties."

"Indeed. I owe Ripred as much as I do you, except that now that my esteemed rat colleague is no longer with us I know not how to make my gratitude plain to him. I regret what he had to give in order for Luxa to be returned to us."

Gregor noted how he spoke as if Ripred was only at a different location, instead of dead. If he wasn't already as mad as he was, the words would have enraged him more. As it was, his temper was barely in check, and it wouldn't take much to set it off unless he was careful.

"I am sure he would appreciate it," Gregor said aloud, hoping that his teeth hadn't clenched around his words.

A silence stretched between them. It would have been awkward, except for the fact that they had caught each others' eye, and neither looked away. Gregor was immensely tempted, finding that for some reason he was intimidated by the Viceroy in some way that was more than purely jealousy. Abruptly, the man just seemed to radiate power, and there was something about him that Gregor really didn't like but couldn't place. Uneasiness dripped as they faced each other, but the locked stare they shared didn't falter, and neither did they in their resolution to hold it. There wasn't anything around them; no plots, no plans, no intense schemes of evil cruelty. Just the two men, rager and diplomat, locked in a silent, unspoken combat of eyes.

It prolonged itself to minute proportions, but eventually the Viceroy apparently grew tired of the standoff, and cleared his throat rather loudly. Still never taking his eyes off of Gregor's, he said. "Well, then. I believe I shall leave you to it. Or rather, leave you to whatever it is you are doing."

"Very well, Viceroy." Never dropped the stare.

At the same time, they turned away from each other, Gregor towards the balcony with fresh air, the Viceroy towards the doorway, back to duties and responsibilities. They held their battle until the last possible moment, until they broke it simultaneously, leaving their exchange at a permanent stalemate. Gregor surveyed his opponent's movements carefully with sound until they crossed the doorway threshold, and then started to turn his attention back to the fields below.

Just as he was relaxing, though, the Viceroy's voice chimed back from the archway, shocking him once again back to reality. "Oh, and Overlander... For your own sake, please survive any travels. You do not deserve to die after your ordeals for us."

Without turning, Gregor nodded, stiffly keeping his head turned towards the empty streets, the tense atmosphere, and the distant, training soldiers who prepared themselves evermore for battle. He waited for anything else to be said, but silence followed his physical reply. A swift turn of his head confirmed his hopes: the Viceroy had finally gone.

In a way that would have been clearly visible to a passing flier, Gregor let out a hard, pent-up breath and relaxed his shoulders. Such an encounter as one with the Viceroy had not been one he had ever expected or wanted to have as he engaged his investigation challenge, much less inside the palace before any investigating had actually occurred, minus the obvious preliminaries.

His mind was in too much turmoil now, having just nearly run into hysterics at the encounter. His thoughts upon what he had been attempting to unravel when the Viceroy interrupted his mind were lost to him, and he really didn't understand anything about what he had been realizing anyway.

Not a person had seen Luxa being taken. Not a single person had realized that she was gone from the platform until it was too late. What did that give him to work on in a way that he could use it? Just like always, he was lost, and so far nothing around Regalia or the palace seemed to help him.

Then he had a thought.

It wasn't especially helpful. It was only caught in passing, actually. The only reason he thought it up, though, was because it was another question that sort of, kind of, just perhaps maybe fit in with the others: no one had seen her taken. But they had realized that she had been. He had heard the stories of the attempts at rescue. He had heard of the pursuit and failure of the army. But the point of everything was, they had _known_ she was taken but not seen it, which meant that someone had sounded the alarm. Someone, who, it now seemed, was the person who gave Luxa to the cutters in the first place.

Gregor waited a long few moments, before looking down below and to the side. About forty meters adjacent to the wall running below the ledge, there was a small pack of soldiers standing in front of one of the raising machines that allowed human access to the palace. Looking down, he ascertained that it was only around a thirty-foot drop to the streets below. It wasn't the easiest to navigate harmlessly, but he had jumped far worse in his life, and right now he was in desperate need of a soldier to speak with.

Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground, into a sitting position where his feet were dangled over the ledge cautiously. Taking a few long moments to make sure there was no one in sight of his shenanigan, and that the Viceroy had truly left the platform, he began to lower himself over the ledge.

Once he was holding on solely by his arms he took several deep breaths, bracing himself against the wall as he prepared himself for the forced plummet. It took a short period of time before he accepted the fact that there would be a measured amount of pain involved, and he had already forced himself into this. Realizing that he would never convince himself it was a good idea, but equally realizing that it was too late and too difficult to go back now, he shoved away his concern and let go.

Being airborne only lasted a few quick seconds, but hitting the ground came much too quickly for his liking. Somehow, even though his knees nearly blew themselves out and nearly broke just from the sheer impact, he managed to stay on his feet for the landing.

Seething in pure pain but managing but to cry out in the pain, he waited as patiently as he could for the booming echoes of his impact to die off of the perfectly smooth walls. Finally, when the waves of noise deadened themselves to a standstill and no one had bothered to come to investigate the source of such a noise, he stood up straight and took a deep, relieved breath.

He approached the soldiers without uneasiness, knowing they would recognize him and comply with almost anything he said. As it was, he only needed to ask them a simple question, one that any of them, if adequate enough, shouldn't have a problem answering.

As he approached closer, they all looked up to see him and instantly snapped to the Underland equivalent of attention, facing and standing in a rigid approximation of a human board.

"Overlander, sir," one of them said. By the decoration on his armor, he was marked as the leader. Gregor took him in for a moment before speaking. He was tall enough, around Gregor's own height. His build was slightly larger, his hair was trimmed shorter, and he carried a beard and mustache to a measurable length on his face. His helm he grasped in his left hand, a rough shield in his right. His face was perfectly expressionless, admirable in such a low-ranking officer. He looked much more composed than some of his men, but Gregor didn't even give a hint that that was the case.

Directing his head towards the officer, the Overlander said, "As you were, men. I come only with a short inquiry."

The men relaxed, but the officer only let his shoulders sag back to original position slightly. Responding first with a brisk nod and motion with his head behind him, after which they moved sturdily in the direction he indicated, he turned right back to Gregor and replied verbally. "We are here to serve, Overlander. Your will is always our command, especially after the rescue of Queen Luxa."

Gregor waved off the praise, jumping instead to forward the conversation in a timely fashion. "Actually, as it turns out, I come with only a question of the battle in which Her Majesty was taken by the cutters. Where you and your men participants in that battle?"

"Not directly, sir," the soldier replied. "We were in the far after ranks, but just as the cutter lines began to fall into our region they had captured the queen and immediately began a strategic retreat."

Gregor nodded. "Very good. There are a few things that still don't make sense to me, though. When the cutters began a retreat, originally you didn't know what it was for. But then, before you went after her, was there someone who called out that they had the queen?"

"Yes, sir," the soldier replied evenly.

"And you believed that person right away?"

"Of course, sir. When you have that much authority, you tend to listen to any claim they make."

Gregor frowned. "Who was it that made the claim?"

"Viceroy Arthur."

Yep. Nothing made sense.


	29. 28: In The Night

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: Luny Lovegud, november21, shadowblade546, Castaway5, and laxgoal31.**

**Anonymous reviews are back on, just so... allow me to present a math equation: reviews + me feeling loved = motivation = faster writing. Yeah... Anyway, here we are with Chapter 28, and off we are flying back towards danger. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Think, people. Why???**

**28**

**In The Night**

Gregor left the officers amidst a cloud of confusion. He didn't know what to make of the information. The Viceroy had no reason to help to abduct Luxa. First of all, there would be no profit for him if she was to be removed from the spectrum, even if he was evil. With her gone, he would not have been king.

Second of all, it had been his idea in the first place to go after her. The numbers didn't add up, especially considering that his plan had worked perfectly. Gregor was treading lightly on the subject, being extra careful not to dwell too much on the fact that for now, however unlikely it seemed, the Viceroy was the prime suspect. For the most part, he was worried that his intense dislike of Arthur would cause him to focus solely on the man, thereby distracting him from the clues and causing him to lose the trail of the real criminal.

But for now, lost in his own checks and uncertainties, he was running out of time before he was to meet Eris. Already the clocks were descending into night, and he found himself both hungry and wide awake. He was about to embark on a mission from the palace for who knows how long, and he wanted to make a point of appearing ever-the-ready, especially in a first impression situation.

He made his way quickly back to his quarters, still running over evidence in his mind. He made several wrong turns and had to turn back several times after he had passed his destination points, but eventually he was able to walk through his concentration and make it back to the stone door of his prison for the past weeks.

He stripped, giving view to every inch of his tired, hairy, scarred skin. He could use a bath, but there wasn't time for one. He used the primitive sink of his room to wash the dirt from his face, then shaved the steady stubble that had been steadily growing since his descent to the Underland with a razor from an underlying drawer. Shaving wasn't something he enjoyed, but he had always tried to look as clean as possible, especially in the streets of New York, where clean was practically an impossibility to most.

Once his face was smooth, he took a knife from his secret arsenal of weapons and cut off any excess hair that had grown on top of his head. He had long ago let it grow out more, and it was now beginning to whip around his ear level. He recalled a warning from Luxa long ago that long hair was a liability in battle. He remembered it stoically as he raggedly cut away any hair almost down to his scalp. (Despite himself, he took a moment to make it look neat, as well.)

It took a while for him to be satisfied with his appearance, but it was finally enough that he looked both suitable and the fact that he wouldn't be overly in danger in combat because of his features. He washed his hands several times, running the grit and sweat of several days' hardship from them as the water washed by. He could almost see everything he did with them as they were unsoiled.

When he deemed himself relatively cleanish, Gregor found the closest thing to form-fitting black he could in his supplied wardrobe and pulled them on. Despite his expectations, they still hung loosely, presenting a possible inhibiting factor in the case of movement under certain circumstances. He would have given a lot to be able to wear his own black clothes at the moment, but he knew that the strong smell of cloth so close to his body would be like a flashing beacon to any Underland creature with a nose any better than a human's.

He had lost his overcoat in the Lair the first time in, but had received another near-identical one from a knitting servant. He now pulled it on, admitting only to himself that in several ways the Underland one actually out-stripped his own lost one. He shrugged into it as comfortably as he could while strapping his scimitar and excess-weapons belt to his side.

Finally, he turned to the stone nightstand, at what sat on it and had sat on it ever since he and Ripred had left for the first time into the Lair. Gregor had thought long and hard already on the subject, but he just couldn't come to a conclusion on the debate of whether or not he should strap his gun to his side just like his sword. It was an unbeatable weapon, but it wasn't the style of the Underland, and, being in the Underland, Gregor couldn't decide whether or not it was a good idea.

Staring at it now, his battle with himself was coming to a final climax. _It will save your life more than once_.

The other half argued, _I'll run out of bullets before too long. There's what... fifteen in that thing. _He had carried two other clips with him at all times in the Overland, but they had been buried deep in the pocket of his regular Overland clothes, long burned by the Underlanders. He didn't know what had become of them.

His wanting side screamed, _At least it'll give you those shots. You might only need fifteen to win_.

_Ripred never would have approved of a gun._

_Ripred is dead. Maybe that's the very reason why._

Stunned into silence from his self argument, Gregor thought for another long moment before reaching out a steady hand towards the gun. Picking it up, he locked it firmly in place and checked it for imperfections before dropping it lightly into his overcoat pocket, at an angle where it was easily accessible in the event that he required it on short notice.

Taking a last check around his quarters for anything he didn't want to leave behind, he made sure that no trace of anything that might give a clue as to what he was doing remained. Without any hint of regret or angst, Gregor walked out of the room, letting the stone door swing to a booming close behind him and not feeling inclined at all to look back. He had an appointment to keep.

After making sure that most of the hallways were empty, Gregor located and raided the nearest storeroom, eating enough to last at least a days' worth of nourishment. The cold meat cleared his mind surprisingly well, and he was able to escape hectic thought for a few moments while he inhaled as much food as he could hold. He didn't know how long his journey into investigation would take, but chances were, as it could take him far away from Regalia, he wouldn't be receiving much in the way of further edible supplement. He needed as much as he could get now.

For a while, he just sat there, contemplating tasks and numbers and clues and so many things that still didn't make sense to him. Eventually, though, when his stomach began to scream itself exhaustingly full and he realized the clocks had dropped another hour without his realization, he forced himself to climb to his feet and leave the storeroom's confinements.

It was late enough now for none except select guards to occupy the palace walls. As he walked, silently and alone except for the occasional nod to a stern sentry, he wondered if Luxa had fallen asleep yet, far above his head on higher levels of the building edifice. He wondered if instead she was distressed and lonely, lying awake for fear of encountering nightmares should she sleep. He didn't want her to feel the pain he believed he was causing her, but he couldn't allow the cause of the opposite, either. He was in a pinch, and walking away didn't seem to be helping either of them.

His life sucked.

It didn't take him as long as he thought it would to make it to the main platform of the palace. The labyrinth of tunnels and passages throughout the passage didn't seem to twist and turn as much on the lower levels, and so it was much easier for him to gather and utilize his bearings. He emerged to find the platform perfectly empty, a welcome sight and sign for their plans. He had hoped for a silent meeting and departure, as then no one would know exactly when they left or where they left to. They could use as many edges as they received on their way.

Gregor soundlessly crossed the platform, stopping only after he had achieved position in almost the perfect center. Closing his eyes and raising his head to the dark sky, he listened for any sign of a flier.

Cold, hard, nothingness met his ears, just as he had expected. He was early, and Eris had yet to arrive, as far as his senses could tell him. For the moment, those simple facts didn't unnerve him. Time wasn't on their side, but it wasn't yet stretched unbelievably thin.

On the spot, Gregor sank slowly to the ground, keeping his eyes closed and crossing his legs as he did so. Landing in a relatively comfortable heap on the cold stone, he reached with one hand to the smooth rock, feeling the deepest vibrations of grinding plates, and stuck the other one into his pocket, where he took a hold of his gun and held it only for reassurance. Calming his breath and mind, he tried to slip into a light form of meditation as he started his perpetual wait.

In his subconscious but observant state, Gregor wondered if he had made the correct choice in trusting Aurora and, through Aurora, Eris. It might have been better if he had kept the matter solely to himself. Then again, he desperately needed assistance, help rendered most helpful by a flier. In the city, all of the fliers he had ever trusted were either dead or unavailable, and he had gone to the closest thing he had to a friend among the Underland bats.

He supposed that he could have asked Equinox to assist him, but even considering the action made him shudder. He wasn't entirely sure that he liked the giant black bat. For some reason, Equinox just seemed too cheery for him. It was almost as if the flier still saw much of the world as a big joke, laughable and humorous, instead of as it truly was, bloody and cruel and deadly. Gregor could see that Equinox was still too young to understand how the outside existence functioned, and he knew that he didn't ever want to take Equinox into the blood by himself. Or at all. (Plus, Equinox was clearly looking for a bond, and was hoping Gregor would agree to be his. Gregor wasn't planning on taking another bond. Ever. Not after how his last one had ended.)

He tried to imagine Eris, but found that he couldn't. From what Aurora had supplied she wasn't a bat to be easily trifled with. He wasn't exactly afraid of what she might actually turn out to be, but instead somewhere between uneasy and drastically nervous. The impression he was about to make might decide whether or not he received the full cooperative help he needed. He couldn't afford to mess it up.

There was a soft wind in the cool underground air. In the distance, Gregor could hear sword clashes and shield clangs from the arena, where apparently there were still soldiers hard at work training. The War of Time had been disastrous for all parties involved, but somehow Gregor knew that a war with the cutters would be even worse. It wasn't just that people would die. Most likely, there would be massacres and sieges and full occupation. People would just _die_. They would be utterly slaughtered.

It wouldn't even be war. It would be an Apocalypse for the Underland.

He could have fallen asleep in that position, sitting on a freezing platform of stone in the palace of Regalia amidst thousands of sleeping people consumed by their own problems and not in the least bit concerned by the fact that their queen was to be married in a little over four days time now. He could have maybe forgotten about his duties and responsibilities and wants and needs for a few hours while he tried to get a little bit of careful rest.

But all of his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of great wings beating through the air.

He refused to open his eyes as he felt and heard the flier approach. Using a louder breathing pattern, he just managed to establish echolocation in the form of observation, and he was able to find the incoming flier.

She was smaller than he had expected. He didn't really believe that she'd be able to pick him up and fly with him upon her back, but after another few seconds he had established the fact of her body muscle, which was so defined against the fur that it bulged out to the point of stretching. Even in the dark, with his eyes closed, Gregor could tell that the hair that covered every inch of her body was perfectly sleek. Her head was slightly large for her body, but the way he shaped her eyes out of his sound refractions he could describe them only as small and darting, ever watchful and devious. The point of her nose may have indicated a talent for smell, and her ears were sharp to a hard point that he had never seen in any flier, ever. Whatever views he got of the flier's claws, he could tell that they were astoundingly sharp. When he compiled all of the information together all he got of it was the image of one very intimidating female flier, one that he was just about to ally (or die trying).

Eris flew with a potent skill, gliding perfectly on the air and shifting her weight majestically with every turn. She cut right into the wind and defied it perfectly as she swept down towards the platform. Except for the insistent beatings thrust every few seconds, she made no sound as she flew. Or, at least, none that was audible to Gregor's ears. When she glided, the air was caught and dispersed easily, never causing noise to break from the air. If Gregor hadn't been blessed with rager instincts and a very acute sense of human hearing, he would never have known she was coming. As it was, though, he did know she was flying towards him at a speed he would have considered dangerous in any other flier. Still, he didn't move, and kept his eyes frantically clamped shut.

She flew down at the distant ledge of the platform, gliding in over meters and meters of stone while hovering only a few feet above the floor. Flying directly up to where he sat, she didn't halt her momentum until she was within horribly close danger, and then reared up so fast that for a quick moment Gregor was under the impression that time had abruptly frozen in its place.

All wind and altitude lost from her wings, Eris dropped backwards onto her hind claws with barely a _tink_ against the rock. She was only a few feet away from Gregor, standing at approximately the height that a tall human woman would have. Her breathing was perfectly regular, as if the amazing spectacle Gregor had just witnessed through his ears hadn't exerted her in the slightest. Gregor didn't move to respond to her arrival, and neither did she to his appearance. They waited silently, surveying each other secretly, giving way to a silence that was mysterious but not in the slightest awkward.

Eventually, when Gregor was willing to waste no more time, he slowly retracted the hand that was clamping down upon the gun from his pocket, and opened his eyes wide to survey the flier visually. As he expected, the bat's fur was beautifully sleek. The majority of it was deep black, even darker than Equinox' shade. Along certain places, however, like her jaw line and the sides of her wings, there were deep streaks of a wonderful shade of silver, running in perfect synch to the rest of her body.

Taking all observations without moving his eyes from where they found themselves resting in her cold, imperceptible eyes, Gregor spoke to break the silence. "I'm intriguingly impressed. I've only ever known one flier who was able to execute that move."

"Me, too," Eris answered mockingly, although Gregor caught the faintest hint of the tone that suggested humor. Her voice was almost what he would consider perfectly average for a flier female, if only a bit on the rough side. She was a most curious specimen, he was beginning to quickly realize. "I am Eris."

"I am Gregor," he replied passively. "I presume that Aurora has already told you this."

"You assume correct." Unlike most of the way Underlanders greeted him, her voice wasn't dripping with respect and honor. He acknowledged the fact with almost admiration as she continued. "Although the specifics are still beyond my spectrum of knowledge."

"I assure you, they will be made known to you as we travel."

"There is a word in that sentence, Overlander, which is as yet debatable. 'We'. I have yet to say I will accompany you anywhere."

Gregor raised an eyebrow, the only sign of his sudden, inner distress. "I was under the impression that Aurora has secured your assistance with anything. I understand you are in the debt of many favors."

"The favor I am repaying now," Eris said, "is only by being here to hear your claims and ideas in the first place. I make no statement that I will journey with you as of yet. I have come only to hear what you have to say for your desires. Speak now, or forfeit the opportunity to do so."

"Speed is not desired," he replied, hoping desperately for patience.

"Speed is required."

His other eyebrow went up. The corner of her mouth twitched to the side in the equivalent of a smirk at the sight, and he resisted the temptation to frown hard. Taking an imperceptible breath, he changed directions and honored her request. "Fine. If speed is what you want. We will be embarking upon a dangerous and chaotic mission of near death and certain peril, where we will be risking our lives to discover the identify of an inside accomplice in Regalia. Our success is in no way guaranteed and there is next to no chance that we will both return."

They both remained silent for a moment, staring deep into the others' eyes as they tried to get a grasp on the others' personality from sight alone. Finally, Eris spoke. "Is that all? I was under the impression that it would be certain death for the both of us and no chance whatsoever of coming back."

From where he sat on the ground, Gregor stared at her with skeptical eyes. "So you're in?" he asked confusedly, trying to keep surprise from his voice. "Just like that?"

"Not necessarily. I want to hear some specifics. Give me facts, details, leads. Who exactly are we looking to accuse? Where will we be going? I refuse to operate in any way without full knowledge of what we are getting ourselves into first."

Gregor hesitated, knowing full well that he could answer none of the questions she posed. Taking a second to climb to his feet while searching desperately for a response that would please her and not prove to be a complete lie, he finally settled with the stubborn truth. "I cannot tell you many things in regard to those of which you inquire. All I can say is that my leads are many, my clues are few, and I cannot do this alone. Together, though, there would be no way for us not to catch the perpetrator."

"You'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it," Eris replied. A silence formed, as she hadn't sounded completely finished if her statements to Gregor. After a moment's thought, she added, "But if you are positive that there _is_ a perpetrator, then I assume it is my duty to apprehend them."

Gregor nodded, but aloud he said, "You pay that much homage to the queen of Regalia?"

Eris blinked once. "My allegiance is never to a human. I serve Queen Athena and the court of fliers. They, in turn, deem the fact that a peace with humans is a gift that can never be lost. Stemming from that, therefore, I am pledged to do my whole to save the queen of the humans, through my duty to my species. It has nothing to do with the love of humans. It has to do with _my_ love of fliers."

"I understand," Gregor replied softly, speaking low in an attempt to calm the sparked nerve. "Still, by that, does it mean that I can have your trust, and that you will keep mine?"

"For now, Overlander. For now. We are a team, but however long we remain that way will be decided not by me, but by you. Your actions dictate intentions, and so far you display nothing but sympathy and protectiveness to your queen. As of yet, we share those personal traits."

_In drastically different ways_, Gregor thought grimly, but aloud he said, "Thank you for your understanding."

Eris nodded. "Plus, I already like you."

It was Gregor's turn to blink. At a lesser time in his life, he might have blushed, but now he was only consumed by etiquette. "Thank you for that as well." He paused. "If that would be all with the preparations, then, I would prefer to be on our way. Time is of the essence to the investigation."

"As you wish," Eris said, turning and crouching down so that he could climb onto her back. For all his nervousness, the introduction and initial impression both went well enough for his liking. As he climbed atop the small but remarkably sturdy black back, she added, "If I may be so bold as to inquire, in which direction am I flying and what are we to do once we get there?"

Situating himself atop her back, he paused a moment, looking out over the glistening night city, out towards the darkness, the gaping hole left permanently in the cavern wall by the previous cutter siege. Perplexed once again by the pure mystery of the depressing scene, Gregor raised a lazy hand and gestured off towards the crack weakly, without certainty. "That way."

Eris shifted slightly beneath him, but said nothing as her wings went out for take off. "Very well, simple description will need to fit. May you then answer what we will be looking for once we arrive at wherever our destination in that direction is?"

Gregor shifted uncomfortably, running a light hand over her dark fur as he continued to stare out at the marvelous city. "I don't quite know yet. Rest assured, I'll tell you when I figure it out."

Eris didn't reply, but at least she took off, carrying him off into the air much quicker than he had expected and with a surprising agility, especially from one so small carrying his weight. Despite her evident agitation, she flew without comment out from the platform, continually gaining altitude, as she headed right for the hole. They didn't speak as they began to pass over the city, but Gregor thought that he just might be leaving the palace for the very last time.

Again.


	30. 29: Outskirt Darkness

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: november21, Castaway5, TR, laxgoal31, shadowblade546, UPDATE PLZZZZZ, ImagineKat, wwlego, and Luny Lovegud.**

**I'm feeling really motivated right now to write faster, 'cause I've got plans to write things after this... maybe a sequel?... or five... reviews increase motivation even **_**farther**_**... Here is Chapter 29, with the first clues of espionage and evil. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I'm begging for reviews, I write when I've escaped from a life I don't have, and I try to figure out why everybody thinks about lipstick and hot dates instead of cosmic implosive destruction. I don't think I have the **_**time**_** to own this.**

**29**

**Outskirt Darkness**

They didn't speak much as they flew.

Gregor had Eris meander in her wing strokes, so that they glided more than thrust their ways over the city below. As his eyes scrutinized the ground for every little detail she flew low over the path of destruction wrought by the cutter invasion, which still lay in a straight path through the desolate night streets despite an obvious early attempt at repair. Gregor did his best to miss nothing, in his drastic attempt to uncover possibilities for his liking.

Unfortunately, though not completely unexpected, anything he saw below, misplaced wreckage, uncovered footprints, the rugged and detestable smell of death lingering in the air, was something which had already been cataloged by his investigating mind long ago. There was nothing new to add to his awareness and ever anxious brain, which was beginning to suffer from a severe lack of evidence.

He was beginning to grow worried that he was following the wrong link. A wrong turn could lead him instantly down the wrong path, which in itself might destroy all of his chances of finding the traitor inside. Especially now, because he was leaving Regalia, he realized that the real clues might be left far, far behind and he was heading off in the very opposite direction that he needed. But the thought that he was stuck in the center in a place where he could find nothing to help him motivated him ever farther to head outward instead of lingering where he had found nothing as of the current time.

So he flew on, daring himself not to turn his head and look back at the magnificent city and beautiful person he was leaving behind.

Eris flew fast. Gregor didn't have an automatic speedometer built into his head, but he was observant enough to realize that neither Equinox nor Aurora could fly as quick at their peak condition, and still it seemed that Eris was merely gliding on the air. Ares, Gregor thought with an uncomfortable lump, had been strong and beyond fast as well, but even he hadn't been able to attain what she seemed to be doing now with very little effort.

Their early expedition carried them already out to the outskirts of town, where buildings began to drop in appearance from sturdy-looking to shambles. The streets were still nearly empty, only occupied by a few dark rats fleeting through narrow alleys and the occasional worrisome human running between late night locations. As they flew farther towards the dividing line between civilization and darkness, Gregor whispered to Eris to slope upward, so as to escape into the high shadows of the distant ceiling before the border control caught a sight of them.

She complied without a word, and gave no hint of annoyance. It took Gregor a moment to notice that she had already begun to do so several seconds before he had commanded it. She was smart.

Her slant was steep in only a matter of seconds, and before he had really taken the time to brace himself they were going completely vertical. Gregor nearly fell off, marveling in the maneuver that almost all fliers would find impossible, barely managing to string his knees harder against her fur without seizing it with his flailing hands. Gripping for a hold, he leaned in close over her back, allowing the smallest amount of air possible to affect his holding. Although just managing to keep his position, Gregor managed to make no sound with his actions, and so nothing of their turmoil was able to be heard by unwanted parties.

They climbed for several seconds in perfect silence, Eris' wing strokes deep and silent as they strongly pushed the air behind and down. When they neared the roof, which Gregor didn't have the sound to detect, Eris began to level out, slowly making the turn back to normal posture. Again, Gregor found it a challenge to hang on to the tiny flier, but he managed without severe difficulty to make the transition relatively comfortable for them both.

Flying mere feet below the jagged and unstable ceiling, they passed high over the outer limits of the city and the patrol, never giving the wary but tired guards below any indication that they were above. It wouldn't have been the end of their options if they had been discovered, but they both knew that it was best not to be seen or identified leaving the city in such a hectic time. Such thoughts conveyed anywhere near the city council, followed then by the rumors, and instantly mistrust, would prove to be nothing but a nuisance and perhaps a very large problem if it were to happen.

Showing further intelligence, Eris didn't slope directly back downward after the city limits. Instead, much to Gregor's silent approval, she flew on for a good minute, until they were nearly to the massive wall which separated the city from an intense series of caverns and cave turns. As they neared the impending wall, still nearly directly above the route of the cutter siege, Eris began to slope downward and to the slight left, all the way until she had turned and was at another near-vertical flight, only descending. The effort of lifting herself above wasn't needed either, and gravity did most of the work in keeping Gregor on her back this time.

She leveled out with multiple g-forces that had Gregor leaning back intensely for the straightening. It was fluid enough, though, and just as before they managed to make the transition without noise or cause for alarm.

With the slightest tug of her fur, Gregor managed to indicate his desire to land in an imminent, timely manner. Complying instantly, she sloped downward to run perfectly parallel with the stone ground only a few meters above it. She glided easily for several moments before throwing her wings out wide and halting, pulling them quickly but gracefully to a sudden halt.

Shaking his head to settle himself swiftly, Gregor hopped from her back, careful to avoid her wings as he did so. He was eager to look at something, and only a few dozen meters away was a gateway of evidence just waiting for him.

Eris gathered herself as he surged forward, already intent on the ground, noticing every place where a cutter leg had dug into the rocky stone, cut a rut into a pebble, gapped out a crater where it should have been too hard to do so. There were marks everywhere of a quickly advancing party, or quickly retreating, or quickly running around in disarray. Gregor's senses were acute, but his sight was minimal in the lighting, and echo was only giving him so much of a picture. He could only see what had happened, not how or why. As far as he could tell, it was a mass of disentangled legs thrashing violently against the stone as it was scuttled over. Anything more was nearly beyond his pickup ability.

He growled out his frustration as he neared the gigantic mouth of the tunnel that led deep into the ground, out towards the Lair. Supposedly, any attack would come from there, and it just occurred to Gregor that he was heading in the direction of impending doom.

_Yep, Gregor, dear old boy,_ he thought grimly to himself, crouching, literally staring death straight in the face as he gazed out into the perpetual darkness of the Underland tunnel. _Certain death at the hand of an enemy could really put a big stopper on that plan of yours, eh?_

Surprising himself, though, he didn't really care. Hell come at him, and the lot. He wouldn't stop, not now.

He was still crouching there, staring out into the darkness with a confused, irritated, and thoughtful expression, when Eris came from behind him, nearly startling him with her remarkable stealth. She spoke in a voice so soft it drastically betrayed her black coat. "This does not collaborate with description."

"I beg your pardon?" Gregor asked, barely more than a whisper.

"The story," Eris said, "supplied to the council and Queen Athena stated that the cutters came in the night. Which, in turn, means that they must have come fast to avoid all the patrolling cautions Regalia posts. I have not been this concerned by the facts of the abduction until now, but their are several inconsistencies."

Gregor frowned, still only half-facing her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Cutters communicate and run a trail with pheromones. Sometimes even a lone cutter can leave a trail of these pheromones and an army can follow. Otherwise, they're practically going off of pure imprecision, and cutters improvising is not the greatest evolutionary marvel in known history."

But Gregor shook his head, still staring off and placing a bare hand to the cold ground as he readied an obvious argument. "But what does that have to do with this trail? A cutter or two just could have come before the army and made a trail here. How could they be able to fight against other species without that sort of mindless wandering?"

"That would be impossible," Eris countered, taking a few shuffles away and swooping to the ground. "Fliers post regular patrols throughout the surrounding tunnels in the night to watch for trespassers, even wayward cutters or spinners. If they were there to lay a trail, they would have been finding their way slow enough for us to easily locate them and pick them off." She sniffed the ground once around a particularly dense cluster of random claw indications, for what Gregor could only imagine was a pheromone trace. He wasn't even sure she had the ability to detect such a trace, but he had no idea what else it could be.

"So then how could they have found their way?" Gregor asked. "Gone by smell?"

Eris shook her head as she rose to her feet. "Cutters are not blind; they use their sight more than any sense beside their antenna tracking."

"Not in the Overland. I'm pretty sure they don't have much capacity in their eyes there."

"Well, this is not the Overland, Overlander. Cutters can see, and they utilize that ability. However, that possibility is also ruled out by the fact that, in the night, there would not be enough light for them to have gone by through the tunnels. They do not use echolocation, and, although their antennae give them an increased sense of proximity, they would not have been able to move as fast amongst the tunnels as I am told they did. They need light to see, albeit less, but there is still absolutely no way the city's night lights would be enough to allow them safe navigation from deep within the tunnels."

Gregor thought over her words for a long few moments, still unsure as to whether or not he understood what she was trying to tell him. Clearing his throat quietly, he took a fleeting glance over his shoulder back at the city to make sure they still remained secret, and then turned to face her in his crouch. "So, you're telling me that they knew where they were going, but that there was no possible way that they _could have_ known where they going?"

"Precisely," Eris replied.

"Then..." Gregor began, rolling his hands before him in a signal that told the small flier to continue.

"I would have to theorize that someone, either in the day or someone expected and trusted to be coming during the night, laid out the trail for them."

Gregor's eyes widened, but in the dark, with only the faint glow of distant torches of the city and Eris' back relatively turned to him, it didn't quite have the impact he was hoping for. Clearing his throat again, he said, "That's pure speculation. Are you positive that it wasn't just brilliant cutter planning and guessing that managed to get them through these tunnels and back in that time period?"

"Yes, I am, Overlander." Eris shivered once, although why Gregor didn't know. Falling again to the ground, she placed an ear to the rock, listening for the distant vibrations of sounds too tiny for Gregor to pick up on. "Somebody laid out a map for them in the pheromones, and by now I'm guessing that it absolutely was not a random cutter in the straight middle of the day that managed somehow to avoid each and every defense Regalia put up on its outskirts."

"Back up here for a second," Gregor said, standing again and raising his arms for patience. "Somebody leaving pheromones would have to have access to pheromones."

"Obviously, Overlander."

"Doesn't that instigate that whoever was leading this trail approached and more likely than not _entered_ the city coming from here? Wouldn't somebody be just a little bit suspicious when someone comes out of a tunnel leading in the direction of the Cutter Lair and asks to enter the city?"

"The borders aren't exactly heavily guarded in the middle of the day, Overlander, and if it were the right person they would allow passage no matter where the person happened to come from."

"What kind of right person?"

"I know not," Eris said stubbornly, her ear still flattened perfectly to the ground as she strained to hear something that was completely beyond Gregor's capability. He could only watch her as she searched for something herself. "Perhaps a council member, or a well known soldier."

Gregor didn't comment, only stared back out into the darkness as Eris kept her ear to the ground. Rushing through his head were the dozens of possibilities fitting to the proportions the flier had just supplied. As he went, though, he found that he was crossing out name after name with hardly a second glance, finding one fault or another with their character or personality or motive that didn't coincide with the rest of their evidence. Soon his suspect list was down to only a few, and quicker than that he realized that several of the names on that list were those who he knew would never do anything to hurt Luxa.

His predicament was vastly confusing and disorienting.

Eris retracted her ear abruptly from the ground and rustled herself in a slight jump to her hind claws. Startling Gregor slightly in her unexpectedness, she bowed her head very briefly in apology before curling her wings back to her side and sighing. "I hear nothing of scuttling claws in the ground below and around us, which more or less rules out the possibility of a hidden tunnel network, unless it has been caved back in on their backward journey. But that would still make no sense, because when they left they used the tunnels in their escape. If they had really come from below the stone they would simply have utilized it for their escape purposes as well."

"So, as of now we have this evidence," Gregor started. "They came above ground, they came through tunnel, and we currently believe that the accomplice we are searching for made a trail all the way from the Cutter Lair to this location using a set of acquired pheromones and the ability to get through the city gate relatively unquestioned." He sighed once, contemplating. Looking over at her with grim eyes, he added, "I don't suppose you happen to know if Regalia keeps a record of who enters the city at the certain gate breaks."

"As a matter of fact, I know that they do not," Eris replied, equally grim and troubled. "I also know that they tend not to allow entry to anyone who is unfamiliar or unexpected."

Gregor shook his head, annoyed and frustrated and wary all the time of the giant black hole in front of them both. It was just like a hole in his mind, standing erected eternally into the stone like a gap in his memory and mental comprehension. Facts were there, but nothing added them together or stringed out a pattern amongst them. In a metaphor sense that was more literal than usual, they were flying blind, into the darkness towards a Lair that was disturbingly troubling. And all along, there were still problems that were nagging his mind, not quite making sense with the nature of a number of species.

Turning back to Eris, he whispered, "We're assuming now that this perpetrator is either human or gnawer, right?"

"I would assume," Eris answered, not looking in the same direction as he. "Fliers never fly alone except with their bonds, and we would have noticed a random congregation even in daytime; Crawlers are hated so much by cutters that one of them would be cut down on sight; a spinner would never be let inside the city without proper designation and intent displayed, not to mention being expected for appropriate arrival. Why do you ask?"

"Because, just like the crawlers, I'm thinking that gnawers and humans would equally be cut down," Gregor stated. "Maybe not at first, but it would take a good deal of trust just to put away violence, not to mention somehow make this arrangement, whatever it is, and then have it work with mutual trust on both parties. I don't know of many gnawers who could put up that kind of patience and then cooperation, and virtually no humans who could stand in the presence of a cutter peacefully. Whoever has done this would have to be one hell of a negotiator just to be able to hold an audience without getting his head chopped off."

Eris murmured something to herself, eyes darting left and right in the dark as she thought. "Intriguing, it is. Yet maybe we are overlooking too many things. The cutter way is not cooperation. It is severe invasion. They would not make an outside alliance unless there was a great deal of trust and something greater than just conquest to be gained of that operation."

"This is true," Gregor said, resisting the urge to rub his hands together in the frill, heat-deprived air. "But I can't think of anything that would fit that description." There was a pause, in which both of them tried to think hard of an answer, even before Gregor added the question. "What could they want that only an alliance of sorts with a collaborator could give them?"

The silence stretched onward, but still neither could answer anything of what they needed. Straining his mind, Gregor tried to come up with anything else that could provide information in their favor. "You can smell the pheromones, Eris?"

"Yes, but only in very close proximity and not very well. If you're asking me to follow the trail, then I'm afraid we're very much out of luck."

"Unfortunately, that's exactly what I'm asking," Gregor continued, scowling. "I need this path back into the Lair, because that might also give us a clue as to where and how whoever we're looking for was able to make this alliance somehow. As we've already stated, it's very unlikely that the cutters initiated this idea themselves. It was on our side that the collaboration was thought up."

Eris nodded, but brought her own flier frown upon her face as she studied him in the dark. "In your statements of the journey and predicaments in the Lair, you said that all of the cutters amongst the entire Lair were covering a central point, all to guard in detaining Queen Luxa. Now, however, with Her Majesty escaped and returned behind our forces, they will be dispersed and readying for harsh war."

Gregor nodded himself, but at the same time brought up a side statement, careful in his words in the case that he defy and offend Eris. "Are you certain? Is war really what they want to come of this kidnapping and rescue?"

"If they did not, then they would not have taken her in the first place."

"Then is it our ultimate goal to stop a war, or discover who it is who turned Luxa over to them, and bring them down before they lead both of our species with them?"

"It is always your decision," Eris muttered softly, casting wary glances both back at the quiet city and the hole which spelled for them impending doom. Turning grimly back to him, she added, "Your heart leads us both, and I have confidence it will not lead us back to where we are not needed and have already traversed. Nor will it lead us to destruction."

Staring at her with immensely gratified eyes that he hoped shone even if the faintest glints amongst the dark, Gregor cleared his throat several times before continuing. "We still lack anything to prove... _anything_."

"Then we shall have to ascertain more evidence that will be proven crucial to our purposes."

"Very good. Let's move on."


	31. 30: Clues

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: shadowblade546, wwlego, laxgoal31, The One Called Demetra, november21, Castaway5, rgplmr, If I Had My Way -I would rule-, anti-Furhler, Nicole, TR, Fitz Marksicle, and abipolarwaffle. Phew. That's more than I've had in a long time. Thanks, guys!**

**Bear with me through the search... these chapters are really the ones that set the stage for the rest of them, so I'm trying to take a little extra time with them to get them right. Sorry for that. Chapter 30. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I came, I saw, I disclaimed.**

**30**

**Clues**

Despite his urges of progression, Eris wanted a full ten minutes rest to rejuvenate herself, as she didn't know how long of a period she would be flying once she took off again. The request took him by surprise, both because Ares had never complained of fatigue and he wasn't used to such a happening, and also due to the importance of speed. For some reason or another, though, he let her take the ten minutes. Hell knew they might need all of the rest they could get if unseen forces should appear.

Not once in the ten minutes did he take his eyes from the tunnel ahead.

It loomed in darkness, a fierce and deadly omen, sitting and almost _daring_ him to enter, as if to spring some outlandish, unexpected trap from within to ensnare him in forever black evil. It haunted him somewhat, for even though he had clicked enough to give him a pretty good map of the close interior, the maw of darkness still seemed to mock him in some way that he couldn't fit into comprehensive words in the deep of his mind. It was as if something was twitching on the edge of his conscious realization. The very, very furthest edge.

He waited impatiently for Eris, mystified by the sight yet anxious and eager to remove himself from the mesmerizing position. The same mixture of wonder and unease was thrown together in fear, as he knew at any moment an enemy could emerge from the dark shadows----followed by another, and then another. Invasion, death, and destruction would commence shortly afterward, not necessarily in that order, unless he take all precautions to stay safe.

The moment Eris declared herself ready he hopped atop her back and perched himself in an intentionally uncomfortable position. Pain made his instincts and senses operate, and right now, heading into pitch blackness in the general direction of a very dangerous enemy, he wanted to be as alert as possible.

There took to the air in perfect silence, and as they descended into darkness their speaking habits didn't change. His attention was focused intently on the ground, much as it would have to be for the future, and Eris was equally divided between her own observation skills, the watch for cutters crawling out of the blackness, and keeping herself properly proportioned in midair. Their duties were their own, and they were focused on doing them both as they traveled abruptly deeper and deeper into the ostentatious dark.

Gregor didn't think as they went. Thinking led to hesitation, which led to distraction, which led to so many things that he really didn't have the time, patience, or strength to handle. He closed his ear to everything of the outside world, and only listened to the steady strokes of Eris' wings and their rebounding maps as his echolocation skills detailed the rocky terrain around and below.

They were both steady, consistent. They didn't speak, their intentions, ideas, and decisions seeming to pass between the two of them with a simple mental grace of which neither of them truly possessed, but which hopped back and forth between the two very alike minds faster than they could have confirmed themselves.

For long periods of time, their flight passed without event. Gregor kept his eyes and ears locked on the ground, but inside his mind he was subconsciously keeping careful time of their flight, careful to measure exactly how long and how far they were traveling. Silently, he was internally matching its parameters to his previous mission with Ripred and Equinox, which wasn't exactly the easiest task: Eris flew at a much faster average speed than Equinox had, and he couldn't be perfectly sure that they were traveling the same route through the tunnels. As it was, though, he was relatively sure that they were nearing the edge of his comfort zone in relation to the Lair's proximity. To correct himself, he wasn't comfortable at all with their location. In fact, every muscle of Gregor's body was being forced horribly to relax by his mind, and he was slightly worried that his tension would interfere with his reflexive alerts should they need to come into action.

As if he didn't have enough to worry about as it was.

Even as he was furiously intent upon the ground, he had to notice that Eris' progressive flight was almost perfectly balanced, even and congruent with itself consistently from the moment it began to the current time. Each stroke was measured perfectly in equivalence with the one before, each breath he felt her lungs suck in was just as long and relaxed as the last. For all of her argumentative qualities he had already observed, Gregor could see that she possessed remarkable stamina, not to mention a great skill for relaxation in situations such as their current one.

Of course, though, just as he was about to make a quiet, offhand compliment to this fact, she began to teeter to one side and the other, swinging along in an obvious attempt to stall in the flight. Her air speed slowed almost instantly, and her head began to dart back and forth. Her ears and nose visibly strained against the air as Gregor tried to hold on with his knees while ascertaining what she was doing.

"What's going on?" he hissed under his breath as he nearly fell off to his downward left. "What's happening?"

"The pheromone trail has become erratic," Eris growled back, angry and confused. Her flight pattern was still relatively patternish, but its speed and heading were changing so fast Gregor was having a difficult time keeping his mind from becoming too dizzy.

"Is it disappearing?" he growled out, struggling to make himself heard over the noise of her drastically changing wing strokes. He was forced to bend right over her neck and reach for a hold on his opposite arm stringed the other direction, all in order to keep his seat on her back.

"No, it is still full in place." Her nostrils were flaring silently, ranging from close sniffs to drastic inhalations in order to gather long distance stenches. "Except that several trails are converging and overlapping each other. Something of significance must have occurred here, or else something where there were many scents coinciding."

"Speak English to me here, Eris," Gregor groaned, as she twirled around in a quick circle to pass again over a sharp piece of space. "I'm not supersensitive or anything. Although I think I'm about to throw up anytime…"

"If you would like to fly yourself into the Lair, please simply inform me," she retorted angrily. To accompany her rage she swerved in a dangerous pattern, before flying straight for a wall before veering off sharply just for the improper benefit of his churning stomach. "I'll drop you off at the nearest cutter resting zone if it would so please you."

Instantly swallowing the insult that jumped into his mind (most likely saving himself from an argument that would either strand him at the very edges of human territory or set off Eris in to a particularly foul mood), Gregor clamped his mouth shut hard long enough for him to swallow his annoyance and carefully wrap his conscious self around an apology. He took several deep breaths to calm himself, before attempting to speak again in a slow, deliberate voice. "I'm sorry, Eris. Could you please stop bucking around and simply land if you're confused?"

She grunted in reply, and Gregor took that as a "no". After a tense moment, however, she sloped downward and pulled up abruptly to crash controllably into the dust-flying dirt. Jumping down lightly from her back, he grudgingly turned around and thanked her as profusely as he possibly could before turning away and back to the rest of the area of their landing.

In her fit it had been hard for him to use echolocation to map the area of her confusion, but now, situated atop firm soil that did not buck and churn below him, Gregor could now gather a good idea of his surroundings. He was in a small cavern, perhaps the size of the atrium in the rock formation back in Luxa's prison during her detainment. Many tunnels branched off of it, although they were everywhere in the small, enclosed walls. Some broke off of the ceiling, spreading out into the intense networks hidden deep within the surrounding rock. Other stayed close to the ground as they launched directly into the floor or spread off from the closer levels of stone. Only a single, larger but still quite narrow, passage led off which would have given enough room for Eris to fly. From all the others, it was almost perfectly the appropriate size for cutter use.

Moving quickly, with stealthy footfalls, he closed the distance to the nearest tunnel, barely realizing what he was stepping over. By the time he had closed its distance, he stopped, looking straight down as recognition sank in. The dirt, everywhere, was layered thickly with harsh marks, deep scratches and straight lines cut that could only have been made by cutter claws and pinchers. They were so thick that you could barely tell when one split from another, or where one began or ended. Looking back the way he had come and clicking into the darkness, he noticed that he had stepped right on more of the tracks, although they seemingly showed no difference to those he had already discovered. He took a few quick seconds to map the rest of the cavern, but even with only the slight indentations to guide his way it took him hardly a moment to see that it matched the rest of the prints completely.

"Eris," he whispered across the darkness, to where she was still trying to gain a sense of what she was missing. "Look down. Tell me I'm not hallucinating."

She complied instantly, and when she did so she immediately froze, unmoving. Her head tilted first to one side, and then the other, and finally came to rest straight ahead. After an apparently intense moment of thought, she turned back into Gregor's direction and cleared her throat quietly before speaking. "Interesting."

"It is, isn't it?" Gregor replied, doing his best to keep annoyance and sarcasm from his voice. "What do you make of it in relation to our previous thoughts?"

After a brief moment of consideration, in which Eris' head swiveled once to the right and then back again, she replied, "I would surmise that the many cutter armies situated about their Lair were all ordered to head for a certain point just beyond their territory, in human lands, where they were to gather up again as a complete, gigantic group, before launching a master attack on Regalia."

"I deduced just as much." Gregor nodded, lowering himself into a crouch to ease his center of balance. "Except for one thing: is the place where they all met up for the attack, or where they dispersed after they returned from a success?"

"That is a question I cannot answer," she replied evenly. "As far as I can tell, either would be a plausible answer."

"Really?"

"I would not speak so if I did not think so, Overlander." He heard a sigh in the darkness, but didn't bother to turn and see her exasperated face. "If I had to guess, I would say that this was a meeting point, not a dispersing point, just because the trail led directly to here and not scattered here and there as we went. Anyhow, I believe this is why the pheromone trail grew incomprehensible. Because so many cutters were in the same location, trying to become oriented. They were all trying desperately to right themselves, and they disrupted the trail."

"Where does our little revelation leave us, then?"

"Here, Overlander." Her voice was soft, distant, as if she were in thought. "It leaves us here. With clues of minimal value but absolute importance. It is our duty and mission to translate this mystery into common terms."

"Indeed," Gregor replied, looking over the ground in the darkness. "Then do you suggest we look for answers?"

"Yes." It was a simple reply, though effective.

Individually, they began to fan out amongst the small cavern, careful to not take a step until they had deduced exactly what they were stepping upon and making sure that it was nothing of importance before placing their foot or claw over it and dispersing its evidence forever. They were very precise and slow in their observations, since they had only echo to go off of. Many times did they take several minutes to examine strange patterns or markings that could suggest whether the cutters were going or leaving in their stay inside the cavern, but still they could uncover no truth as to which it was. At one point Gregor asked Eris if she could still catch the main trail of pheromones from that spot deeper into the Lair, and she replied only that there were several trails leading away, and that any of them could be the one they desired. They simply had no way to know for sure.

Gregor lost track of the time as they scoured around the small cave of their interest. Hours probably past, but still he looked only to the ground, for a sign of which way they were to go. So many tunnels led to so many different places that anyone who didn't have a map or guide would get lost within moments, and they truly didn't have the time to get lost. As it was, they were stretching their stay inside the small cavern as it was.

Then, abruptly, Eris broke the silence in a voice of frantic haste.

"Overlander. Here. Now."

Whipping around faster than was healthy, Gregor had sprinted to her side faster than he had known he possibly could, and Eris had to throw out a quick wing to prevent him from running over what she was staring down at right next to the far wall, already looking with a disapproving stare at all the cuts he had just trampled over. He slammed into her webbing, but managed to both halt completely and keep his footing without injury, while jumping his feet back to prevent from falling right onto whatever Eris had been previously staring down at with intent.

She looked back down to whatever was on the ground, sledged right up against the wall so close that Gregor had to click several times before he was able to get its general shape, and then he had to click a trillion more times after that just to be sure he wasn't fooling his own mind in the dark as he goggled openly at what was firmly imprinted into the dirt there, surrounded on all sides but never being interrupted but cutter strikes, and, even after all of that, he still couldn't believe what he saw.

A footprint.

He did a double take, then a triple take, and then nearly fainted. Recovering as fast as he possibly could, he looked closer, seeing each of the individual treads of what could only be a large boot, one accustomed especially to rough terrain and made specifically in Regalia. Any doubt before that of its origin was immediately abolished, leaving only astonishment and confusion.

Looking up at Eris, he swallowed once and said, "Is it just me, or was that incredibly lucky?"

"I do not know what you mean, but I would have to say myself that I would not have ever expected to find such a thing. Here, there, anywhere. I agree with you in that this is an incredible stroke of luck."

"Incredible is an understatement," Gregor said, leaning over it to get a closer look. "Can you get a closer smell around it? See if it carries whatever pheromones whoever this was was dropping?"

"I already have, but I can't differentiate those surrounding it from those of the thousands of other cutter scents in here," Eris replied, staring down at the print with the same look of incredibility that Gregor wore. "There is no way we can know if it was the perpetrator who aided the cutters."

"But we can almost positively assume it is, because all of the other cutter tracks have covered up any additional prints with dirt many times over. Otherwise, there would me many, many more than just this one." He paused for a moment, looking around, unable to believe his senses. "I can't imagine how improbable this was, that so many cutters could be in such a small area yet miss going over such a print."

"Indeed," Eris agreed, shuffling a few steps away, sifting dirt between her claws as she did so. "It would appear almost as if they were avoiding it."

"But why would they do that?" Gregor wondered aloud, knowing Eris couldn't and wouldn't answer the question. He stared out into the blackness towards the nearest wall, as if it would abruptly sprout a mouth and begin to tell him the answers. As was to be expected, though, he felt it stay ever-unchanging in the darkness, and had to curse the inanimate nature of the unliving.

Taking a quick final look at the footprint, trying to memorize its shape and details as Eris had already done, Gregor slowly untied the very tight, very short laces of his right boot, which would correspond directly to the right print that had made the print. Carefully removing it, trying not to sift any of the surrounding grit and dust, Gregor lifted it over the print, and slowly lowered it until it rested in the dust memory.

Releasing it and letting it sit unhindered over the print, Gregor could see that the foot that had made the print was only an inch or two longer than his own foot. That suggested someone with a slightly larger bulk than himself, or else someone his size with abnormally large feet to surpass his own quite large ones. Scowling in thought to himself, he retrieved his boot and quickly tied it back in its place over his long sock before moving away from the ruined print, away to further clues.

They didn't find anything else, though. They scoured over everything for additional hours. The walls, the ceiling, the floor again; everything and its adjacent objects they poured over, but still found nothing. Eventually Gregor began to feel fatigue creep up on him, and he admitted to himself that he would need to rest soon. Time was precious, but to be too exhausted and miss an important clue as they neared even closer to the Lair was even more inexcusable.

He saw similar symptoms of tiredness in Eris, and so convinced her to at least take a few hours of sleep in the small cavern before moving on. She expressed to him her deep uneasiness of their close proximity to the Lair, but he informed her that he was equally nervous and then some, and that there only hope of finding their target was with the cutters, deeper into their territory; and so she agreed to a short respite before they began their journey anew.

They were too close to the Lair to feel safe, and so Gregor quickly suggested taking watches, of which he volunteered for the first. Eris complied without argument, only reluctance, and they situated themselves directly next to the tunnel entrance they had used for their entry, facing the larger passage that led deeper towards their foes. It was cold, enough so that warmth would have been welcome, but, as any fire or heat source would act like a larger homing beacon than their body presence was already, they didn't dare try to defy the chilly air.

Gregor made himself intentionally uncomfortable against many sharp rocks, to keep himself from falling asleep, wrapping his overcoat tightly around himself. He buried his hands in his pockets for heat, fingering the handle and safety on his gun as he did so. He was perfectly content, for once, to sit in silence and think for a while Eris rested. To his surprise though, the quiet lasted for only a few minutes while she curled herself into a strange crouch against the wall next to him for sleep before she spoke up.

"Why do you feel the need to come on this journey so greatly, Overlander?"

Taken by surprise, Gregor let several long moments stretch by while he considered his response before speaking it to her aloud. Instead of an answer to her question, though, he found himself speaking his own inquiry, in a defensive stance that he hadn't planned on forming. "Have you any family, Eris?"

An equal pause met his question before the solution came about. "Little, and none that I care about. You have yet to answer my question."

"I am aware. Why do you not care for your family?"

Growling softly to express her distaste for his ignorance, she replied nonetheless. "Because never in my life have they ever shown the slightest inclination to step in on my behalf for my welfare, from the day I was born up to the current moment where I find myself sitting against rock speaking to you about a question you have, as of yet, failed to answer."

"Your parents do not care for you?"

"My father died before I was born. My mother died giving that birth. I am told that they were caring and would have loved me had they lived to see me grow into my flying years."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." He paused, unsure of what to say. The silence wasn't awkward, only a slight bit tense, and he wondered whether or not he should try to remedy her feelings or press forward with his conversation. In the end, he settled for pressing forward. "Your remaining family shuns you?"

"More or less. They fail to show me even the slightest consideration. Therefore, I leave them be and they strangely return the favor."

"They've never done anything for you?"

"Why would they?" A dry chuckle escaped her throat, completely void of any humor or happy emotion. "Sometimes my elder colleagues drop hints that a few of them had a hand in my father's death."

After an uneasy moment of thought, Gregor ventured, "How did your father die?"

"I know not."

"They didn't tell you?"

"I did not ask. You still have yet to answer my question, and I have not ceased to see the relevance in your return inquiries of me."

Shifting his position slightly, Gregor sighed, keeping his dark and vacant gaze locked out amongst the opposite tunnel's mysteries. "I needed to know if you knew love. I needed to know if you could truly feel the good that has somehow come around to rip me up every time I think of her. I needed to know if you could ever truly understand what I have gone through, suffered through, to get her back. And what I will still go through until I can be assured that she is safe where she is."

Eris didn't reply right away, and after an extended period the silence stretched into minute lengths. Gregor assumed she had finally given up, content with the answer to her question, and left into the realm of sleep. To discourage his judgment, though, after around ten minutes had passed she spoke up again.

"Queen Luxa. Do you love her?"

"Yes, Eris."

A pause met his confession. "How much?"

"Good night, Eris."

"Overlander?"

"Good night, Eris."


	32. 31: Enemy of My Enemy

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: laxgoal31, T.R. Miles, Castaway5 (x2), The One Called Demetra, Fitz Marksicle (x2), deathsinger, november21, shadowblade546, If I Had My Way -I would rule-, Ailat, solegamer117, and anon.**

**I'm not too proud of this chapter, and I'm sorry for the long wait, but just a few more, and then the steep hill to the climax begins. Your patience will be rewarded, I promise! Into Chapter 31, we go. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Exactly what would happen if I claimed that I owned it?**

**31**

**Enemy of My Enemy**

Gregor couldn't sleep.

He woke Eris at the allotted time, only because of their agreement and his need for her trust. He wanted to keep his eyes open and stare out into the darkness, out into the evil as long as he could. He truly wasn't sure what time it was; he had lost all track of time, and didn't find it necessary to ask Eris for it. All that mattered now was getting the truth from the clues, wherever they lied.

Eris took up the watch post, allowing him to lie in the dark and "catch a _few_ winks", as it were. He didn't want to sleep, though. He wasn't restless, but his body didn't want to shut down. He was afraid that he knew so much already that should he fall into the realm of dreams he would forget a vital fact or two. But fatigue would eventually detach him of any such problem solving skills as he drastically needed, so, grudgingly, he nodded once to Eris as they switched positions and laid down in the dirt against the wall, ignoring the thought that he was amongst the distant actions of cutters and twisting his overcoat as close as was possible in the chill.

He closed his eyes, but his brain was still completely wide-awake. He ran through every fact that he had gathered, both by himself and with Ripred and Eris, trying to work his mind into exhaustion as his body recovered in the dark. He knew a bunch, but none of it even got close to paving the way for an explanation, and, as he had previously pounded into his mind as many times as he could without causing permanent damage, he had four days to solve the mystery. True, he didn't _have_ to, but he wanted to be long, long gone by the time the wedding swung around.

Long, long, long, long gone.

So, in the dark, short of precious details and fighting off sleep with an almost unintelligible effort, Gregor formed a plan.

He said nothing to Eris. She wasn't paying attention to him. He could hear her heartbeat and lungs breath in and out, and if he didn't know better, from their slow pace, he would have sworn that she was asleep. She wasn't, he knew, despite the signs that she was. Every few minutes she would shift her position, much as he had done to keep himself awake previously, sometimes just changing her head's tilt as it watched the dark tunnel ahead with hard eyes and ears. A few times he echoed, through his breathing, her looking over at him. He knew that she knew that he wasn't asleep, but she said nothing. They were observing each other intently, just as much as they were observing the outside. On the edge of cutter territory, they were still strangers to each other, but were trusting each other completely and wholly. They had little other choice.

Still, Gregor kept his mouth shut and his brain working as his plan formed. He went over details in the dark, his mind and imagination working through scenarios and calculations so fast that he wondered whether or not Eris could hear his mind working from her position. He wanted to speak with her, confer with her. One fault in his planning could mean certain death for him and possible extended danger for Luxa, and he couldn't afford to make any little mistake.

As much as wanted conference, though, he couldn't go to her, for some part of his heart and mind knew that she would instantly veto and crush his plan. He couldn't tell her until that last possible moment, when she would have no choice but to accept his decision and idea as their only option.

So he plotted, secretly, and kept pretending to sleep, even though they both knew that the other was wide-awake and paying attention to everything the other was doing.

He rested for what he felt was an appropriate period, and then sat up rigidly. Eris immediately climbed into a ready pose, at standby for whatever he was planning to attempt in their future. He could give her credit for intelligence: she didn't know what he was planning or what he had been thinking, but she was smart enough to realize that some sort of planning had come about.

He rolled into a crouch, still thinking about how was best to go about his idea. There would certainly be right and wrong times to make his move, both in relation to its success and when Eris would have no alternative to accepting it. Precise care and caution would be needed for it to work, and then only in the preliminary stages. In reality, most of the second half of it would be improvisation, and the chances of him returning from this devised quest were even slimmer than they had been when he and Ripred had gone in the first time.

Without a word, he looked up to Eris in the darkness, knowing that she was looking straight at him, even without taking the second or two to check. He turned his head once to look out towards the tunnel, and then right back to face her. She understood the gesture easily, and crouched down her body for him to climb on.

Standing slowly, stretching his slightly-lazed muscles, he climbed atop her, careful to leave an extra few inches open for her wings' flexibility. There might be an extended need for increased maneuverability in the very near future, and he was willing to sacrifice a little comfort in the way of saving their lives.

Eris took into the air, but Gregor hardly paid attention as they did. He was already calculating the best possible moment for him to spring out his plan. Timing was everything, almost completely literally in this case.

Because of this, he remained completely still and uncomfortably conspicuous as they continued. Eris looked around in the darkness, much as they had in their journey as of yet, sweeping for clues and signs of life, but to differ he was carefully analyzing each sound he heard, from the highest pitched noises that his rager-amplified ears were only barely able to comprehend to the deepest vibrations which he wasn't even sure Eris could pick up, which might mean cutter presence and proximity. Twice in the first minute of their flight Eris turned her head around sharply to stare up at him with a confused and slightly suspicious look, but he ignored it completely. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Yet.

As their flight began to stretch into lengthy periods, even Eris started to slack off on her observation, choosing instead to take glances left and right, all the time using echolocation at a level far too sensitive for Gregor's hearing. From his senses, he detected a rare sense of nervousness in her stance and flight pattern, but she did well to conceal it. If he hadn't been looking for it, he wouldn't have sensed it himself.

But it was all in good form that she was uneasy. By his estimate, they had either crossed over the distant final fringes of human territory and enter the Cutter Lair, or were horrendously imminent in doing so. His own nervousness and fear were engulfed by motivation, though, and he did nothing to react except heighten his hearing strain.

Eris, minus the engulfed by motivation, was sharing similar reactions and feelings. She didn't slow, but she twirled her flight in midair and directed herself to fly closer to the roof and nearer the walls. Gregor noticed her head shifting left and right constantly, always pausing to rest on ledges and holes. She was testing for possible havens should they be needed. Cutters could come upon them at any time.

No sooner had these thoughts crossed his mind then did a deep tremor reach both of their ears, vibrating through the ears, launched out of the rocky flooring below. Without even a word to him, Eris bolted for the nearest ledge, without even taking the time to see if it was wide enough for them both or sturdy enough to hold both of their weights. She careened atop it, digging her claws in as she rolled onto it. For a brief moment Gregor's back skimmed painfully against the cold stone, but in another he was righted on her back again.

Having stopped in relatively one piece, Eris flattened herself to the top of the rock, and he instantly flattened himself against her back. They didn't blend into their surroundings at all, but the cutters probably wouldn't be concerned with sensing what was above them.

Then again, after their previous breach, their enemies might be looking everywhere.

But before he had time to even consider jumping spots to somewhere less conspicuous the cutters began to pour into the cavern. As always, they were countless, but Gregor could tell this time from the magnitude of the quakes he felt through the rock and the pounding sounds of their synchronous steps that they were fewer than any party they had recently encountered in other locations. In only a moment, he had devised that they were only a border party, a patrol, most likely on direct orders to kill any creature that impended and invaded their borders, while their queen formulated their next plan. All the while he prayed that they wouldn't be found.

As hoped, the cutters never seemed to even hesitate as they passed underneath the ledge they were claiming sanctuary upon. Gregor wasn't entirely sure of the capabilities of an ant, but he figured their stench should have been easily enough to give away their position. Still, perhaps the cutters weren't expecting, with their heightened security, a second penetration into their depths. If his mind and heart hadn't been so wrapped in such angst, Gregor would have allowed himself a subtle and discreet smirk.

Maybe they were just that good.

His pride was short-lived though, destroyed instantly by the continuing fear of discovery. If the cutters had the dark sight he always imagined them to have, all one of the thousands below had to do would be to look up, and see them crouched, perfectly unmoving atop the ledge. There were so obvious that he couldn't believe they hadn't been discovered, even as the cutter numbers began to dwindle and scuttle until they only remained as a trickle. Then a few stragglers rushed through, and finally there was just one left, hurrying after his fellows with what looked like a crippled aft limb, completely ignoring his injury in his attempt to rejoin his group.

Then the final one disappeared into another side tunnel, and the rumbling of the party very slowly disappeared.

They still waited, perfectly silent, now straining to hear the sounds of any disturbance in either direction. Patrols could be plentiful and frequent, with so much concern thrown into the mix on their infiltration. After several minutes of silence and frozen movement, though, Eris spoke up.

"That was far too close for my comfort."

"They're cutters," Gregor replied simply, still flattened completely to her back. "This is cutter territory. If we don't watch our asses like hell we're screwed."

She let out a pent-up breath, one he felt completely as he rested against her expanding lungs deep beneath her fur. Running a hand through her hair and patting her lightly on the shoulder to prevent full erase of her dignity, Gregor took his own breath as she replied. "Interesting choice of words." She paused, still getting control over her own breathing patterns. "Those sorts of things will only become more and more frequent as we descend deeper into the Lair."

Gregor cleared his throat quietly, coming up with his next words carefully, trying to imagine how they would be taken on the receiving end. "Which brings us around to a plan I have formed."

Eris was silent for a moment, and he left the sentence hanging in the air, waiting for some verbal response. They sat there like that for a full minute before she even replied, and when she finally did, he was surprised. "You will die without me, and I would never let you go anyway."

She had called his plan. She was _very_ smart.

"I _need_ to go back in, Eris," he pleaded, not even asking how she had come around to knowing his idea before he spoke it or truly gave any indication towards it. "And I need to go _alone_."

"Why, Overlander?" she snapped, harder than he had expected and pushier than he had ever imagined her to be. "Because only by figuring it out alone can you be sure that the queen will be safe? Because you do not trust me, and therefore do not find me adequate to accompany you?"

"No!" he groaned out, in what he hoped sounded like a sympathetic, understanding, yet still final tone. "Because I must be inconspicuous and unfound, and you haven't navigated the Lair already. Only I have. Only I can go. And I _have_ to go, Eris. Please."

"I will not accept this. I will not let you go."

Gregor sighed, loudly and intentionally angry. "Then you may have just sentenced Her Majesty the queen to a second detainment inside cutter territory, and perhaps certain death anyhow."

"Why would they strike again? She is under constant surveillance now, and they would almost never get another chance."

"Eris, just goddamn _listen_ to me!" he growled, angry and stubborn and distressed. This was not the way he had pictured his plan unveiling in his mind. There, he had been in control; he had been the one to decide the happenings. "Right now, I think I suddenly have an idea of how things played themselves out here, from the beginning of this whole mess to now. I think I can figure this thing out, but I need to _get in there_. It's the only way!"

"And then why must you do it alone?" Eris retorted stonily.

"Because I've already been there, and I'm the only one who can get to my destination without any cutter being able to find and/or catch me. I'm the only one that can do this thing."

"Because you're in love?" she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Because I'm a rager," he said after a hesitation. He waited a moment, then rolled his eyes in the dark before succumbing. "And because I'm in love."

There was an awkward silence that passed between them, one that stretched on and on until Gregor started to think that Eris would forever leave the conversation unfinished until he gave in to her. Finally, though, her voice broke into the silence of the empty cavern, giving an ominous yet final note to the argument that would ultimately decide their current fate. "If you die in there, both of my queens would have me killed."

His relief and gratification was almost enough to make him smile. Or grin. But not quite. "Thank you, Eris," he said aloud, breathing out alleviating lungfuls of air. "Thank you."

"Thank me when you get back."

"If I----"

"Do not."

"That was a joke," he defended, although his somber mood and expression had returned and all humor was erased from his tone.

"I care not. Where will you begin this foolish expedition of yours?"

"I had hoped that it would be as close as you could fly me without being detected," Gregor replied softly. "But if you would rather remain here, I am sure that I could find my way through the caverns."

"And have yourself found and devoured by cutters?" she responded, slowly uncurling her wings from her side. "Certainly not. We will fly. Much closer to wherever you're trying to reach."

"Thank you, Eris."

"When you get back, Overlander."

They took flight once more without words, and Gregor, with shifts and nudges of his knees, directed her through the twisting tunnels and wide turns into the general direction of the massive cavern where the incredible cutter entourage had been hosted upon his first visit. Several times they heard the tremors of parties, but they were distant and removed. It seemed that once they were deeper in the territory they went unnoticed, the patrols long since removed from their spectrum, worried of the borders and not the insides, which, supposedly, were safe. Gregor didn't complain.

Their flight was quick, probably hastened by the fact the Gregor knew all too soon that he would be leaving Eris behind, running into danger headlong and without backup. He wondered for a moment if this was an intentional suicide mission, to subconsciously prevent himself from returning to Regalia to find Luxa married off. He couldn't find it in himself to prove the theory wrong, but he wasn't about to turn away from the lead he suddenly had in his head because of such a thought. If it meant keeping Luxa safe, he would see her married happily with eleven children before he gave in to his depression.

Eris' flight began to slow, and Gregor felt it, too; in the air, there was a barely sensible shaking, the result of thousands of distant claws scraping across the rock. The cutters were near, in their central cavern, planning, plotting, readying. For what Gregor could only imagine as an attack. Terminally. On Regalia.

He told Eris to find a secluded alcove in the ceiling. She complied instantly, flying above to echo locate one to her satisfaction. It took several moments, but eventually she found one, and then, without Gregor even having to ask her to do so, she lowered her flight and soared down to the floor, where she unfurled to a very abrupt halt and plopped to the ground with hardly a sound.

The tremors were worse on the ground, harder, deeper, scarier. Gregor disembarked carefully, and found himself trembling the moment he stepped onto the quaking ground. Whether it was from fear, anticipation, or the actual quakes themselves, though, he didn't have the mind to tell. He took several deep breaths as he clicked out in the direction of the tremors, praying that cutters were far, far away from his current location.

"Thank you," he said again, turning back to Eris, who was staring at him intently, even in the dark where their eyes couldn't possibly meet anything but more darkness. He couldn't help but feel that she was scrutinizing him for a final moment, before he would once again depart from any help and embark upon a more dangerous mission than the one he was leaving.

After a hesitation, she spoke a reply. "Just do me one thing and tell me another. Come back. That is the thing that you must do. Do not fail. I will be most unhappy."

Gregor nodded, his heart once more heavy. Grudgingly, he asked, "And the thing that I must tell?"

"The humans of Regalia," she toned. "The ones who call you 'Warrior'. To them, you are a hero. To them, you are seen as the conqueror of all evil, the slayer of most evil creatures, the fighter of all their problems, the victorious one of all souls. All of these things more. Yet you still do your best to distance yourself from all of them, to be something that is not yourself yet all your soul. Why?"

He hesitated, but only because he truly knew not to answer. He barely understood the question, much less the unexpected and mildly surprising depth of her inquiry. He thought for a moment, hoping the words of the answer would simply pop into his brain, ready for use. When he found that he had none, though, he looked her straight in the eye, in the black darkness, and gave her an honest reply.

"Hero is a contradictory term. Some think it means to be loved by people because of your deeds for them. Some think it means those who do the right thing at the right moment, when it is needed the ultimate most. Still there are others who believe that a hero is one who gives so much for others. And then those who just think hero is a thrown out name for a soldier."

"But what do you believe?" Eris persisted.

Again, he paused, but only because the solid truth of his own words sunk into him as he readied himself to speak them aloud. He thought them over twice in his mind, then continued. "I believe a hero is the one who walks away from glory, because it is not who he is. I believe that a hero is one who casts off everything because he believes he is right. I believe a hero is the one that can throw away his past because he must, for the good of the whole and entire.

"I don't believe I'm a hero."

He turned and walked away, into the darkness, making his words more final than he meant them to be. But he felt Eris fly off back to her chosen alcove, not even hesitating. Perhaps his message hadn't sank in. Oh, well. No matter. There were much more important things to worry about now.

He was walking alone into the maw of the monster, without another rager right by his side, much less a regular comrade. He was alone, again, marching towards the darkness that held the secrets to his content. He had nothing, no one, to lay the way before him or watch out for him if something went wrong.

_No one to cover my back this time_.

But, as he thought of that, another thought came to mind. His heart hadn't been covered for five years, yet he still survived. The thought gave him strength, enough to keep his feet moving one beyond the other, deeper with every step into his own personal Hell.

But he kept moving. For the weight of his conscience and heart now rested on his shoulders, and he suddenly realized why he had insisted upon coming alone. It was so that his life would be forfeited by no one but himself. So that no one would be able to take the responsibility for his death except for him.

And, for the first time in five years, that thought rested his heart into submission.

He walked on.


	33. 32: Cloth and Claw

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: laxgoal31, T.R. Miles, mitchell, Luny Lovegud, CarrieCullen14, operaghost517, greensun30, shadowblade546, november21, co1113, and blackjack99. And thanks to those who want to review but can't because they already reviewed before I deleted the author's note.**

**A chapter of clues and destructive forces. The next chapter is a little boring, I think, so I might be posting it simultaneously with the one after that. Just for a heads up. Chapter 32, here and now. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If I didn't own it during chapter 1 onward, let's have a guess that it still ain't mine right now.**

**32**

**Cloth and Claw**

Gregor greatly underestimated the distance to the central cavern.

From the moment he left Eris it took him over twelve hours to even use enough echo to orient himself in the Lair. Inadvertently, he had been traveling in the wrong direction, moving off to a distant left side as opposed to directly for. As it was, he had probably wasted the better part of the morning hours trying to reach the destination he had probably now missed very far left.

By the time he had righted himself, he had already needed to dodge four separate patrols by fleeing into deep crevices in the side walls, only narrowly managing to avoid being detected each separate time. Put that on top of needing to try and memorize the route back to Eris in the serious case that he wasn't able to locate a passage towards the central cavern of the queen, and Gregor was really beginning to worry that entering the Lair again alone had been downright idiotic, much less plain stupid.

His stamina was peak, without any concern whatsoever. Hunger had crept up on him in the long hours, but it was still quite low enough for it to be easily ignored. Thirst was a great adversary, but there was still the very occasional underground stream where he could replenish himself. His gun still remained in his pocket, although he walked with a hand constantly locked into trigger position, ready to whip it out and fire shots in mere milliseconds should it be required. His other hand was eternally poised over the hilt of his scarred scimitar. He kept experiencing the same grim feeling that he would need to use both of them before long.

At one point, nearing the thirteen-hour mark in his solo journey, a period he likened to approximately five in the afternoon by Underland time, Gregor stopped for an opportunity to try and grasp mastership of his bearings. He was miles away from the central cavern, he knew. He just couldn't tell in which direction it lied, although he believed it to be somewhere to his left side. Standing perfectly still, legs locked together in the darkness, Gregor closed his eyes and surrendered his mind completely to his ears, looking for the sign that meant the correct direction.

Distantly, there were three different rumblings in three different places. In reality, the distinction he was able to associate with each one confused and disturbed him, given that if he was able to discern three separate occurrences than there would have to be a great distance between such occurrences, which, in turn, meant that there were evidently three disconnected cutter parties. As of now, Gregor could fathom no reason why any cutter, short of the patrols, would be apart from the growing army of the species, which supposedly would be rearing up for an attack upon Regalia. But still, there were three different groups that he heard pounding and stomping in the distance.

Switching his intent from distinction to location, Gregor found his mind wrapped even harder around an unpredicted outcome. To his left, at around ten o'clock to him, he heard the largest of the groups, closer than the others as well; without much thought, he could conclude that it was the central cavern, his target. At the same time, he sensed the second closest somewhere behind him and also to his left, in the location where an army might muster for a planned attack on Regalia. This realization did nothing more than bother him that there would, in fact, _be_ a probably attack on Regalia. But now was not the time, and he immediately filed the information away.

The third and final disturbance, though, was not in any way located where Gregor had expected it to be. It was either smaller than the others or else much more distant, but either way it would never have been noticed unless he was standing as perfectly still and silent as he was. In the same position as the central cavern to his left, this new sound was on his right, but obviously the farthest away and possibly not even in cutter territory. Wordlessly, it baffled him to no end, this out-of-the-way point with an unknown target and goal, with a still more confusing unknown reason to converge in the first place.

He could spare it no further thought, though. With only a last-moment listen he ended the pickup of data he was accumulating, and shoved it away as an unsolved mystery. If any thought would be spared towards it, it would be spared later.

Gregor set off into the supposed direction of the central cavern. So many tunnels branched off in so many places from the main wide ones he was trying to take as much as possible (despite them being the most likely place for patrols to be crossing) that he could only take a guess as to which would be the best one to lead him towards his target. Each time before he did so, though, he tried to get as much echoing telemetry of its path as he could, just so he could minimize the possibilities of dead ends and turn backs and unusable passages. Time, as he had stated so many times in the past few hours and days, was of the essence.

After an additional twenty minutes of prospecting and choosing his path carefully, during which he had heard but not encountered three separate patrol parties, Gregor had covered enough distance closer to the chamber so that the rumblings made an audible disturbance into the air even past his footsteps, breathing, and periodic clicking. Through this, additionally, Gregor could use these sounds, judging from how loud they were down distinct passages, to choose his route towards the center. As he got closer, though, he became more wary. Any turn could mean cutters, waiting for intruders or stragglers, ready to finish off either in the name of the collective. Consciously, the grip on his weapons tightened.

But for every corner he turned, for every passage he trekked, for every step that made the rumbling that little bit louder, he came about nothing. No cutters, no light, no anything. Pure silence, which left him gratified yet strangely uneasy. He kept expecting some enemy to leap out of the folds of the rock where his echo couldn't reach, striking with a venom that he was all too familiar with after his first hated trip into the cold Lair. But still, nothing popped out of nowhere to attack. Even so, he never loosened the hold he had on his gun.

And then, all of a sudden, there was a presence.

He froze before he had fully realized it, rager instincts overriding sensory impulses. Abruptly fear, panic, and anger cascaded down upon his mental spectrum simultaneously, but he pushed the hard emotions back into his mind to instigate a restrained calm, something that he found increasingly hard to do, as he tried to make his observation skills work and tell him what was going on.

At first, he couldn't be sure what told him he wasn't alone. There were no footsteps or claw scratches against the rock. Quiet echolocation hadn't alerted him of any nearby movement of any sort. His acute hearing hadn't detected any breathing in the darkness. Even in a swift retrospect, he found himself aware of a life near that he couldn't justify being there, through anything he believed he could ever concoct.

Abruptly, he realized what it was. In the air there was a steady vibration, one that wasn't caused by sound. It was perfectly silent, but it shocked the air around his face and exposed hands with a perfectly subtle and truly imperceptible wave of wind. But it was still there, and Gregor could suddenly realize exactly what the strange happening was: the soft, rhythmic, heavy beating of a gigantic heart.

Then the smell hit him.

It was horrible, the cold stench of dirt mixed in with a terrible blood and brutal sweat, somehow managing to smell like manure and wet dog combined, throwing in a tinge of something unidentifiable which only made the entire experience worse. It was so horrible that Gregor was nearly knocked clean off of his feet, and had to resist both the natural reflex to gag and cover his mouth at the same time, keeping both of his hands firmly locked atop his gun and sword as he tried to comprehend what was the source of both terrifying characteristics.

Recollection hit him like a brick wall…

_Keeping a firm hold on both Ripred and Equinox as they hung perilously from the wall in the farthest reaches of the Lair, not making a sound as a pounding force of unknown beings penetrated the chamber below… the sounds of the footsteps, careening and stomping over the rock far below, possessors of the many legs but few hearts and souls… realizing the unknown origins of these beings, strange and terrifying in the darkness but downright horrifying should they ever come to behold them in the light of the battlefield…_

And now, all of a sudden, Gregor realized that the creatures that had been heard but never seen by he and Ripred and Equinox back in that chamber so long ago, way back when Luxa had still been in evil cutter clutches, and that thing which was there with him now, lurking somewhere just beyond his echo's reach, were one and the same in their species.

Without even thinking, he began to run.

He didn't know where the thing was. He didn't know what it could do if it got him in its clutches. He didn't know what it was or how he could beat or even if he could, but to any and all of those questions he had only one well-thought of and mutually agreed answer: he wasn't about to stay around to find out. The only thoughts going through his mind were something along the lines of, _Get the hell out of here_, and, _Get the hell out of here_. Nothing else mattered.

He sprinted as fast as he could, running down tunnels nearly at random in his frantic urge to get away. Not once did he hear nor see through his echoing any signs of pursuit. He didn't actually know if such pursuit would have been futile or not. To judge something based on the creature he didn't know nor ever even saw was well beyond his observation and estimation skills, and he had no idea if the unknown creature had even been aware of his presence in such close proximity. Perhaps it had been unconscious, for whatever reason.

Over time he slowed down, mostly because the rumbling began to grow in size so that it finally began to cause a recognizable vibration in the dirt below his feet. He was winded, but his rager instincts allowed him a sizable resistance enough to ignore the feeling, at least as far as it went to keeping his feet moving one ahead of the other. As his feet steadied into walking pace along the ground again, he was able to distinguish everything behind him over his ragged breathing. As far as his echo reached, back into the tunnel at what he took as a relative and relevant distance, there was absolutely no sound of chase. He relaxed a great deal from a few moments previous, but still kept himself on static alert.

He turned his full attention ahead, acknowledging the absence of any threat from behind. He couldn't hear the distance from himself to the central cavern, but he was positive that this great rumbling was actually it, just as he had hoped. He tried to use all of his senses at the same time to get a rough grasp on the distance and number of tunnels he would still have to cover before he was to arrive there, and, abruptly, he found himself actually _seeing_.

There was an intensely faint light radiating into the tunnel from out ahead. _Immensely_ faint, so much so that he hadn't actually noticed it through his echolocation sense. Only when he actually shut out the ricochets of his breathing and scarce clicking did he notice the slight filter of luminosity fighting its way into the darkness.

Out of reflex he instantly froze, wary of the source of this strange and unexpected phenomenon that had found its way into his path. After only a split second of thought he concluded that this was most likely from one of the fires he had observed on his first visit into the Lair. Taking refuge in the fact that this evidence meant he was getting very close to his goal indeed he pressed forward cautiously, returning both hands to his weapons and even going as far as to pull his broken scimitar from its sheath.

It was several moments later, as he was proceeding through a particularly bendy part of his tunnel, when a certain thought that he hadn't considered before jumped into his mind, and nearly stopped him once again in his tracks. The last time he had been in the Lair, the path he and Ripred had found to locate Luxa had been courtesy of an escape and freak find atop a high ledge in a wide tunnel, which led also into an amazingly coincidental section ripped into existence completely by a chance earthquake. This time, though, he was on a path most likely leading right onto ground level of the actual central cavern, right into the clutches of the many assembling or guarding cutters, whichever it truly was. In effect, he might be putting himself right in the middle of whatever he would desperately like to avoid, thereby compromising his entire mission.

After only a few seconds of indecision, though, during which he shuffled uneasily forward with very wary footsteps, he decided that it would be better to press into the forward tunnel and hope to defeat any opposition he met rather then go back and hope to find as good of a passage towards the Lair center. Once his mind was in agreement he reset his pace even quicker than before, eager to be that much closer to his eventual ending point, even if it meant probable battle and possible death in between. Anything that got him that much farther towards the evidence.

With every step he took, every bend he turned around in the tunnels, the light of the unknown but suspected source grew brighter and brighter, until eventually, should he have wanted to, Gregor could have navigated himself through the labyrinth of tunnels solely by sight. As it was, though, he continued to trust himself only with his echolocation, nervous of a sudden turn and stealthy cutters at every fork in his passage. The more light that flooded into his spectrum, the more danger he was in, and with every step his growing anxiety only strengthened behind a low wall of calm.

To accompany the light, the rumbling in the fabrics of the ground had become intense and loud enough to somewhat interfere with his echolocation, causing him to cast off his breathing pattern and use clicking to mark his way instead. It still wasn't nearly as loud as it had been the first visit, but, taking into account the fact that he was pretty sure this was a smaller party than before, he could conclude that he was very close to his target.

Three corners later, both the sound and light had tripled themselves in magnitude, and he slowed his pace purely out of careful caution to avoid detection, and also slightly because of the quaking ground and its own dangers. Every step was measured, light, but always firm, as a loose step and subsequent trip would be utterly unacceptable.

Then there came the point as he was approaching the end of a particular passage, where the roof began to widen out and the walls became less narrow than before. It began to curve, and Gregor moved slower still, noticing the distant flickers of the shadows of shadows at the farthest place on the opposite wall that his eyes could reach. The actual sharp corner where the passage split into the next section finally came into view, but, looking ahead and up, Gregor saw that the roof of the rock corridor abruptly sloped upward. Putting all the evidence with each other to signify his ultimate arrival at the Lair, he stopped his pace altogether, choosing to inch his way up to the corner. Every tiny little step was measured and so carefully placed, but finally he reached the corner and leaned right against the rock as he ever so slowly tilted his head around the bend to glimpse the Lair beyond.

Not much of it had changed since his last trip. The walls were still huge, exposed, ripped apart by the sheer corrosion brought on by so many crawling cutters. The ceiling was so distant Gregor couldn't crane his neck in its cautious state enough to glance it amongst the high darkness. Fires still raged uncontrollably in many places across the plains of the cavern's floor, but as before he couldn't see what or why it was burning. Any time his eyes got anywhere close to the flames their accumulative brightness banished his glare away. As before, the only notable support of the roof came from the massive central column. Near the base, but swarming only around the far side of the chamber, an uncountable cutter army laid. Such were their numbers that they made Gregor's head swirl, although the view ahead was nothing compared to that which had occupied the cavern his first trip. The entire group now was hugging the far walls, a very great distance away from him, flooding in and out of interlocking tunnels. As he watched around the corner, a few more individual cutters rushed in all around, straggling alone over the great empty plain of stone rock in the cavern, to join the larger group. They were amassing for a great attack, Gregor realized, or else an extremely important secondary purpose.

Giving no more time to his observation skills, Gregor turned his mind against a more important problem. He found himself inside the Lair, the very central cavern, much closer than he believed he had ever been before, but he abruptly realized that he had no idea why he had come. Before, he had only gotten through telling himself that the answer to all of the problems would lie at the very center of the Cutter Lair. Now, though, he had ultimately no idea why he had led himself to the middle of all worries and disarray, hoping to find a random solution.

Then a new light dawned onto him: he wanted to find answers through the cutters themselves, someone who would be able to actually _tell_ him what had transpired, who had come, who had agreed. Admittedly, the cutters would never willingly divulge information, both because of his status as enemy and their lack of individuality, also not to mention their probable negligence of his language. But, if there was one cutter who would actually have a mind of its own, it would be the one who the lower classes and soldiers and workers would defend at any cost of life, the very one Gregor had to speak to.

The queen.

She would be there, locked up somewhere inside that center column, surrounded by workers and soldiers and breeders and who-knows what else. Untouchable, unreachable, locked away where she could never be disturbed by an outside influence or power.

Gregor, alone, barely armed, would never be able to get to her. The centerpiece of the cutter civilization would not be left unguarded enough for him to even get close to taking out her defenders, and it wasn't as if he could simply walk out and ask for a private audience with her majesty. Put together, when he considered exactly his situation and his dumb and unconscious plan that he didn't realize was futile until he was in the exact position to execute it, he could only come to one plausible conclusion.

He was screwed. And, just as he had done so many times in the last few weeks, he made a stupid decision, regardless of his own life and goals and attempts.

He was going to try it. He was going to storm the column at the very middle of the evil Lair and capture the queen of the cutters. He was going to find out why someone helped the evil bastards around kidnap Luxa, and he was going to make whoever it was pay for it with their life.

Or die trying. One or the other.

He had no idea where the queen would be located in the spire ahead, but he would worry about that when he got there. Peaking his head slightly more out from behind the wall of his hiding place, he quickly tried to ascertain the number of cutters amassing distantly across the field and how fast they would be in running to intercept him should he try and run towards the spire. Ducking back around again before he gave any of the evil creatures a chance to spot him, he slid to the floor, trying to calm his suddenly heavy heart and running over his badly-received data.

From what he could judge by sight alone, it was nearly a full half-mile from the opening of his tunnel to the central spire. If he sprinted as fast as he could, he might be able to get there in a minimum of two minutes. While no serious amount of cutters were swirling around the column, they were still close enough so that if they chose to they could make it to the same spot much quicker. His real only hope of getting there without being abruptly stopped would be if he gave them a distraction. At such a distance, he wouldn't be able to do much in the way of such a disruption, lacking of anything to really make a difference for their combined attention.

Except for one particular plan. Gregor straightened as he thought of it, wondering if he should really try such a thing. As it was, he was low in stock, and he didn't want to waste any more than was necessary. After a moment, though, he grudgingly acknowledged it as a necessary sacrifice.

He waited for several moments while he calmed and gathered his breath, easing his heart, and relaxing his trembling legs for the horrible endurance they were about to be forced through.

Then, in one fluid motion, he stood up, pulled the gun from his pocket with a steady hand, drew his sword with his other, and spun around the corner, disengaging the safety lock as he went. Without much thought, he aimed for a general spot amongst the swirling pack cutters, wished his forfeited bullet good luck, and fired.

It wouldn't make impact for a good two seconds, but he didn't wait to see it hit. He was already sprinting as hard as he could.

He was hard away when he saw what could have only been the reaction to his shot out of his peripheral vision. The rumbling in the ground made it harder for him to connect his running feet with the ground, much less see anything as he went, but he still managed to pick up the sight of turmoil beyond. The noise was so loud that he had barely heard the sound of the shot, but at precisely the moment he believed it to have hit he watched a ripple of what could only be surprise or unemotional unexpectedness rush through the massive army. Milliseconds later, half of the cutters tried to roll over onto the other half, desperate to find out what the bullet had been and caused, intent on their breach of security. As he had hoped, it appeared at first sight like his distraction had worked. He was a good fifteen seconds into his sprint, and still he had not been detected by the mass of enemies.

Courageously but futilely, one of the stragglers took sight of him as he rushed past, and hastened to get in his way. Gregor swiped it aside with his blade faster than he normally would have thought necessary, but as it careened away into the darkness two more loners caught a sight of him and began to scurry into his direction.

It was all he could do to stay on course, but now Gregor found himself trying to fend for himself amongst attacks abruptly from all sides while worrying about the army which could come crashing in his direction at any moment, all while searching desperately for any sight of an access tunnel at any of the spire's stony roots. Still, for what he marked himself at so far, though, he thought he was doing a pretty good job, and still his stamina wasn't falling from exertion.

At the one minute mark, though, as he was swiping his scimitar through another three assailants and refusing to waste any more bullets, his victory seem short-lived. His distraction had finally failed, and the gigantic swarm had either gotten him in sight or received the message now radiating amongst the disoriented stragglers: there was an intruder. As he tossed the corpses of his most recent victories away without slowing his pace, he saw the first of the great unorganized battalions begin to rush for interception.

He had mostly outrun the idling attackers, but Gregor knew instantly that it would be very close who would get to the giant spire first, him or them, and he also understood that if he didn't win that race he wouldn't survive to see Luxa's face again.

Spurred on by that solemn thought, he put on an additional burst of speed and allowed a scream of exertion and frustration to escape his throat as he rushed with all his might and will onward, still scanning for any merciful opening.

He was only five hundred feet away. Closer than the oncoming cutters, but they were gaining fast.

Three hundred, and he didn't think he could make it.

Two hundred, and suddenly he spotted an opening for his use. The ground began to slope upward towards the vertical column, and the tunnel he saw was situated just at the peak of the hill he deemed climbable. But still his enemies came closer, and his legs began to feel drowsy beneath him.

One hundred feet. It was going to be so close he didn't know who would win, and survive.

Fifty. He began to raise his sword, determined even in the loss to fight against them to the death and take as many as he could him no matter what happened.

Twenty. He was going to lose.

Ten. Gregor thought only of Luxa, and lunged with all his might forward, towards the opening of freedom just as the first cutter leaped out at him.

With a cry of victory, screaming in triumph as the he knocked the cutter up and over his head with a backhand of his sword, he flew off of his feet and flew into the tunnel out of control, prisoner of his inertia. He was incapacitated as he went, though, and another cutter leaped with gleaming pinchers as he rolled down once again into darkness. His sword well out of position, Gregor turned his gun over behind his head and sent a bullet careening bloodily through the beast's head.

He hit the ground hard, and rolled even harder as the tunnel immediately sloped downward. He was completely out of odds as he spun down into blackness, the cutter army mildly compromised but still hot on his trail.

Rearing up, realizing his imminent danger, Gregor somehow managed to get back to his feet. Still stumbling, he swung his scimitar with all of his tired might right into the ceiling of the downhill tunnel. It screeched with multiple sparks through the stone, sending rocks and stones and good-sized chunks falling into and onto his pursuit. Ignoring the sickening crunches and agonized animal grunts he heard from behind, he gained his footing as best he could and kept running, trying to imitate his own tactic over and over again, slowing down the cutters as much as he could.

Evidently it was working. With so little regard for their own lives, the cutters were rushing after him and right into their demise. As the bodies of the wounded piled up, Gregor heard them trampled over and killed by their fellows. This, put together with the accumulating rocks on the tunnel's floor as it began to level out, was slowly beginning to dampen the cutter's distance from him, giving a slight advantage.

Then Gregor got sight of a light up ahead again, and saw a small pocket in the tunnel. Quickly calculating he reared back low on his legs and then struck directly upward in as hard of a sideways swipe as he possibly could as he shot out of the passage's mouth. Skidding to an instant halt and turning at the exact same time, he rushed back and jumped up, cutting hard into the softer rock above the low hole. Like clay, his scimitar cut right into the rock, and it was separated from its high holding against the rest of the stone and came caving down into the passage mouth. Unlucky forward cutters were smashed to pulp beneath the rubble as it came falling down upon them, and the forward chain reaction caused additional stone behind the first cut to fall in as well. Dust and grime was kicked up, but through it all Gregor could hear the anguished squeals and scuttling claws as the passage caved-in, miraculously sealing the cutter army on one side of the rubble and Gregor on the other. For a few moments, the sound of falling debris and cold disturbance filled the air, but then, slowly, all seemed to grow silent.

Standing perfectly upright beyond the destruction, amazed and wheezing for breath, gripping both weapons in his bloody hands with white knuckles, Gregor stared off into the cave-in with disbelief and gratitude for a moment, and then turned hastily to regard the room he had entered.

The light had come from a fire on the wall to his left, and across from the tunnel he had destroyed there was three-fork leading off up, right, and farther down into the Lair. Apart from that, the room was absolutely empty. He was alone and safe for now, he knew, but soon the pursuit would find another way into the chamber. They knew the Lair much better than he, after all, and any moment now patrollers and soldiers could coming pouring out of any of those three forks.

Pausing only long enough to gather some of his breath, Gregor ran instantly across the room and down the right fork, praying that whichever way he went from there on would lead him directly into the queen's chamber.

The passage immediately sloped up as the light began to disappear, then switched directions, moving steeply downward. Moving quickly through the dark depths, Gregor kept both an ear behind and one ahead, anxious for signs of pursuit from either direction. Uneasily he realized that he was alone and trapped, unless there was some way out of the spire that didn't involve him leaving back through the plains. All he could do was hope like hell that there was and keep running.

Suddenly, there was more light streaming into the tunnel, and then he flew out into a large but still enclosed cavern. A single, large fire situated right in the middle of the room lit the entirety of it, and crates of a strange weaving string he hadn't seen before lined the walls. Gregor had already located and analyzed each of the five branching tunnels, all in separate corners of the room, before he too late realized that the room he had entered was already occupied.

Five cutters, guards by their bulk and stations, were standing around the fire. As he rushed in, though, they instantly turned and rushed to engage him without hesitation.

Swearing at their quickness, he swung both weapons up to defend himself. One was on top of him so quickly that his sword dug into it even as its pinchers reached desperately for his head. He ducked backwards as he swung and threw the lifeless body over his shoulder, but still the sharp limbs hacked into the graze into the side of his neck. His skin was able to protect most of the hit, but he still felt the long-healed scabs of his scars break open again. Blood trickled out over his neck and shoulder as he rounded to face the other four, but he paid it no mind as they came for the attack.

Backing up towards the nearest crates, he dismembered two heads with a single swing as one attacked from the other side at the same time. Deprived of the necessary blade to attack that one, he was forced to shoot it into submission. As it fell away with a startled look in its alien eyes, Gregor turned his attention to the last one.

It was either smarter or more experienced, for this cutter lingered behind for a very brief moment, looking for a weakness in his stance and fighting approach. Almost as he began to relax slightly, though, it lunged. Deflecting a claw that just barely missed sinking deeply into his leg, Gregor jabbed it back against the wall with the barrel of his gun while conserving an unneeded bullet, where it toppled into a stack of crates as its human opposite stumbled and regained his footing. Leaping towards it again, Gregor swung his sword with strength, watching it sink into and out of the cutter's abdomen with satisfaction.

Stepping quickly away from his kill and wiping the blood now decorating his sword onto one of the legs of his pants, Gregor quickly ascertained that the room was empty of anything of interest before turning towards the tunnels. All looked nearly the same, and he really couldn't tell just by appearance which ones led where. Listening for any signs of pursuit, Gregor ascertained that he was not in danger of imminent discovery at the same time he heard a staggering breath from near his feet.

He looked down. The cutter he had shot was lying a few meters away, resting unsteadily against a crate, bleeding profusely. Gregor could see that it was beyond hope for saving. Not quite dead, but he could easily see it was thoroughly incapacitated. Quickly calculating and taking a risk on exactly how much time he happened to have, Gregor leaned over the creature on one knee. He rested the blade of his sword against the cutter's neck, and waited until the miserable beast looked up to him before speaking. "Do you know my language?"

Naturally, he received no answer. As he had already considered, even if it did understand what he was saying, there was no individuality inside. It would most likely not respond anyway. Anyway, though, Gregor paused for a moment before pressing forward despite the silence. "Answer my questions and I will ease your passing."

Still nothing came by way of a response.

He looked up and listened for another second before looking back down at the cutter and trying one last time with his actual question. "Which passageway will lead me to the queen?"

He didn't expect anything at that, firstly because of the individuality problem, but also because cutters, loyal to their leader, would never say anything to give them away. To his remarkable surprise, though, the cutter sucked in a sharp breath and spoke out words, raspy and highly rough, but understandable all the same. "Any one. Or no one."

"What does that mean?" Gregor urged angrily.

"It means that you will neverrrrr get to ourrrr queen. It means that you will die horrrrrrribly."

Gregor pressed his blade lower on the creature's neck, quickly losing patience with the annoying beast. "Do not toy with me. Tell me which one will take me to her, and I'll end your sorry existence."

"We welcome the end of ourrrrrrrrr life. We will die with honorrrrrrrrrrr."

With a heavy sigh, Gregor climbed back up to one knee, and was about to kill the cutter purely out of pity when something caught the corner of his eye and made him freeze. Next to a large pile of crates on the far side of the room there was an even larger pile of cloth. Before that moment, the fire had been too bright for him to glimpse the objects, but now he stood up and straightened when he looked closer. Even from the distance he was currently at, he could tell that a cutter could never have created such a material.

Quickly, he rushed around the fire to the pile. Falling to his knees at the stack, he quickly sheathed his sword and pulled a piece of the cloth from the pile. He slid it very lightly through his fingers, trying to scrutinize every little detail he could see. It was a very deep ebony color, with a hint of crimson trim around the farthest edge, made obviously with the highest skill by a master of the art. Gregor had never felt anything smoother in terms of texture, and he was equally surprised to find that, abruptly, he found something familiar in the way it looked. Startled, he instantly pounded his memory for the source of this recognized happening. For a long moment he racked his mind anxiously, so close but still far from what he needed. Then, like a lightning strike, he remembered...

Ripred's funeral, staring hard into the eyes of a man who wore a cloak made of the same fabric as he held in his hands at that moment, trying to restrain all of the hatred he felt as he reluctantly but stoically shook the hand of that man and accepted the misunderstood condolences that could be offered. Seeing the same fabric in his mind's eye as the flames took his mentor into the afterlife...

Looking around quickly, he saw for the first time that the crates surrounding the room were embroidered with a symbol. That too was familiar to him, but he didn't take the time to rack his mind for that, too, because the significance wasn't there. It was enough in a single realization: the cutters had no factions. If they themselves had created these crates, for whatever reason he couldn't fathom, there would be no need for symbolism. The crates weren't cutter-made, which meant that they had either been stolen or brought here. Judging from what he knew from cutter attitude, he drastically doubted it was the former.

Anxious, surprised, excited, Gregor rushed back around to the far side of the fire again and leaned harshly over the mortally wounded cutter again. Waving the fabric right over its dimming eyes, he growled out his sentence in intensely forceful words, pronouncing each one clearly. "Where did this come from?"

The cutter stared blankly at it for a moment, and although Gregor couldn't perfectly read its foreign expression, he didn't show mercy when there came no reply. He pulled his sword forcefully from its scabbard and roughly hacked off two of the cutters limbs. Dropping the scimitar back to the ground as the beast reeled in pain, he cried, "ANSWER ME!"

The breathing of the cutter was coming in rasps now, but this time its reply was clear. "It was... an offerrrrrrrring..."

"Of what?!" Gregor snarled, mind already processing facts.

"Peace..."

"From who?!"

The cutter gulped down several harsh-sounding breaths of air before trying to reply. "A killerrrr... like you... male..."

Gregor's mind reeled, but still he kept his firm hold around the cutter's airway, resisting the impulse to squeeze. Struggling to keep his own breath and heartbeat under control in his exhilaration, he lowered his voice considerably and stated his next demand. "Describe him."

"We do not... know... tall... more than you..."

"Why did he bring this offering?! Why did you not kill him on sight?! That is the cutter way, isn't it?!"

"It was... peace... he said had... way forrrrrrr... human... collaborrrrration..."

"YOU. DO. NOT. COLLABORATE!"

"The queen said... not to... fight... we... obey..."

Struggling to keep his emotions in check and not strangle the cutter, Gregor tried to pull in his mind and facts as he still kept listening for signs of his discovery by pursuing cutter parties. Gulping several times to gather himself, he looked back down at the cutter and asked a final question. "What was the collaboration over?"

After a moment's hesitation, the cutter's voice came back, slow and low. "We... do not... know..."

Gregor tightened his hold over its throat, sending a clear message for information, but instantly the cutter added, "It was not ourrrrrr arrrrrrea! We arrrre... only told of... what we must be... concerrrrrned by..."

Acknowledging the truth of the cutter's words, Gregor finally released his hold on its body, realizing that he would get no more information from it. In his mind, the suspect was suddenly looming, and kept dancing in front of him. Nothing fit, though. He had no reason to do anything like this. More likely than not it would make him worse, actually. But still, the evidence, in Gregor's eyes, was overwhelming in his favor. He looked around once more, and let out a slightly relieved breath, acknowledging all of the evidence finally. Thinking long and slow over the revelation, he wished he had slightly more, but he had still ascertained and accumulated more than he had ever hoped to when he entered the Lair.

Standing up and roughly stuffing the fabric into his pocket, Gregor gestured off to the closest tunnel at random and looked back down to the cutter. Speaking loudly so that it would clearly hear, he said, "Where does that tunnel lead?"

"Not... to herrrrrrr."

Gregor persisted. "Out? Away?!"

"Not... to... herrrrr."

He would get nothing else. He was flying blind again. But now he was flying blind with a purpose, and he wasn't going to give up again. Sighing, Gregor reached back into his pocket for his gun. "Well, if that's all you can give me..."

"You... will... not get to... the queen... we... wish you death..."

"Yeah, yeah," Gregor said, annoyed. Looking straight into the cutter's eyes, he continued. "I don't need her any more, pal. You gave me everything I needed. Thanks for the help. You died well."

The cutter evidently opened its mouth to reply again, but before another word could escape Gregor leveled the gun at its head and fired. Walking away from the gruesome sight, he stood right ahead of the tunnel that he had chosen to take. In the distance, from the opposite end of the room and down one of the far tunnels, he could hear the beginning sounds of pursuit finally catching him. There was nothing from ahead, though, and for a moment Gregor allowed himself to believe that he might have a chance to get out of the Lair. In any case, he knew who had sentenced Luxa to her demise, and that energy would fuel him to no resolve. He didn't know _why_, but he was positive of who. And he _would_ kill that person. Nothing would come to stop him from that anymore.

Taking a deep breath, Gregor started to run back into the darkness.


	34. 33: Dark Inferno

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: Castaway5, laxgoal31, T.R. Miles, november21, Robert, and shadowblade546.**

**Short and sweet, and sorry for that, but the long one I just wrote wore me out. Anyway, though, we're getting **_**really**_** close to the point of confrontation. Just a few away. While we're waiting, here's chapter 33, followed immediately by 34. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I dare you to contradict me.**

**33**

**Dark Inferno**

Gregor didn't stop running until the tunnel came out into another cavern, and then it was only through surprise.

He had run through many forks, always staying on the path that ran straight forwards, but not once had he come out into open space, up until this point. He hadn't felt the pull of fatigue as it was pushed away by countless surges of adrenaline. He hadn't heard nor seen the quick claws of a cutter as it lunged out of the darkness to attack. Not once had he felt even compelled to slow down, gather his bearings, and catch his breath, but the moment he leaped out of the tunnel into complete darkness and silence, aside from the deep rumbling that suddenly was very distant, he found that sheer surprise and dizziness stopped his feet from moving.

He had come out in a wide tunnel, not unlike the one he and Ripred had traversed to enter the Lair the first time, except that this one was slightly lower in ceiling and wider in width. He couldn't tell if his position had shifted greatly or if he was where he thought he should have been; the passage he had just exited from the near wall had twisted and turned so many times, and he had been going so fast with anxiety, that he had absolutely no idea where he was in relation both to the central cavern and the direction that Eris was located in.

In effect, he was suddenly lost. Behind enemy lines. While they were all searching for him.

Panic jumped into his mind, and he had to struggle drastically immediately to prevent his chest from seizing up. His heart rate was accelerating with each second, as he kept realizing that he was in even more trouble than he had originally expected, and still his brain couldn't calm his thought processes as his hearing tried to get a hold over his orientation.

In the distance, he imagined he could hear the scraping of cutter claws against distant stone, following his sweaty scent through the labyrinth he had just followed in their anxious and confused attempt to neutralize the intruder. The sound, perhaps unreal but evident in his mind, only added to the haste he was trying to put himself through suddenly, and he began to wildly look around for any clue that would tell him where he was. But still he found nothing. And still he imagined his adversaries getting closer.

He cursed himself for his inadequacy to ascertain or remember even the simplest of his instincts, and tried desperately in his mind to come up with some reason or clue so as to indicate which way was deadly and which way might possibly lead to safety. (Or Eris.) After a good moment of thought, though, he was still standing in the very same spot, frozen by indecision and fear and frustration, not knowing the idea which would save him from his destruction. Finally, though, he had had enough, and decided that one way or another he needed to know where he was. So he did the only thing he could, and prayed that no cutters would be anywhere close to him when he did it.

He turned his head upward and screamed at the top of his lungs.

It lasted less than a second, but by the time he was done his throat was already hoarse. He had exhausted whatever supply of hydration he had left inside of his body, so no helpful backlash of saliva helped calm it. The pure effort of making his weary body make a sound so loud almost made him collapse into a heap on the ground, but it only took a mental image of a single cutter coming upon his unconscious form in the dark and ending his entire operation when he was so close to success to keep him on his feet and semi-awake.

Still, he forced himself to stay up and aware, as the distant echoes of his scream filtered into the deepest, darkest, most distant corners of the Lair, and began to bounce back for him to read just as he had prayed they would. Each refraction disappeared, and then his most sensitive ears picked up the faintest repercussions to catch a little substitution of what could have been echolocation. Bit by bit, he reformed the scream he had omitted in his mind and traced the echoes back through their ricochets both to the source and their outcome, closing gaps over the ones that were left in darkness and the unknown as he tried to see the big picture. It was a great effort, and truly one he had never tried or even thought of trying before. Hell, he had never even imagined that such a thing was possible before. Now, however, he was trying to utilize such a method from scratch, and his results were remarkably sketchy at best. Still, they were results, and they were the only ones he had. He would have to use them as best he could.

It was mildly hard to distinguish between some of the quieter echoes, but he could tell with minimal difficulty that there was a large cavern somewhere within a few meters of the wall to his left. He couldn't tell if it was bigger or smaller than the one he was occupying currently, but he could assure himself that it was empty of cutters. To his right, nothing but separate and narrow passageways and tunnels flew up and away into the rock, and he was relatively sure it stayed that way for a long time into its depths. The tunnel he was currently in curved back into the Lair, deeper in going both directions, and he immediately ruled it out as a possible escape. Turning his attention immediately towards the cavern to his left, Gregor decided easily that it would be his best bet, at the moment, for a quick escape route.

Besides, in the far distance he could hear the beginning sounds of cutters, streaming all to his position to find the source of his scream. He decided that it wouldn't be best to still be there when they arrived.

He could already tell through his echoes that any of the passages spreading off of the left wall led directly into the other cavernous passage, so he chose the closest one at random and launched himself at as fast as he could go. He covered it in less than four seconds, shooting out into the companion pocket passage while still trying to keep an ear behind him at his pursuers. It took less than a second for him to measure the approximate distance to the opposite wall, but three more after that to wrack his memory deep enough for a general confirmation: the cavern he was now in was roughly the same size and shape as the one he and Ripred had entered on, which gave him enough confidence to assume it was the same one. If all of this were correct, then, Eris was hidden away somewhere at least a mile away in the forward direction.

Gregor could have chosen that moment to flee back down the massive corridor. For a very short time period he was seriously tempted to. After he considered it for a moment, though, he realized that he would never make it halfway back to human territory alone on his own two feet, not with a full cutter army and then some coming after him and his present fatigue case worsening as he went. Besides, he couldn't leave Eris behind, no matter how important he considered his revelation inside the Lair.

So he went with his instincts, and kept running all the way to the opposite wall. He hesitated only slightly when he reached it, wondering anxiously which of the dozens of tunnels sprouting into passages in the surface of the structure would lead him to something that was helpful and preferably not a dead end. Suddenly, though, he heard the rumbling of cutter steps coming directly from the darkness in the direction of the central cavern somewhere to his current left, and he realized that he had no time whatsoever to make difficult decisions. Getting a running start, he launched himself up and into a tunnel a meter off the ground, only stumbling slightly as he hit the mouth opening. He regained his feet with admirable agility and kept sprinting.

He hadn't chosen the perfect one. Using his reluctantly rebounding footsteps he was able to tell what was ahead in the passage before he hit it. Unfortunately, all this did for him was allow him a moment to duck, for every few meters at the most the ceiling periodically lowered or the walls narrowed, causing time-hindering dodges. Forks and cracks in the stone passed every foot, and he really wondered whether or not he would eventually hit a wall and be trapped in from the outside. That was the last thing he needed. And he didn't need to run into one of the mystery creatures either.

Every step brought more sounds of proximity to his ears, and adrenaline pumped through his veins as fast as the blood to his brain. Resisting the impulse to look over his shoulder, knowing it to be futile in the utter darkness, Gregor focused on nothing but running forward and away from any pursuit that was behind.

He never thought about pursuit from the front. And when he finally hit open cavern again, he wasn't moving slow enough to realize that the passage came out a good ten feet above the actual floor.

And when he was hurtling through the air with mortified surprise, he fell right into a stationary pack of cutters.

There was no reaction when they were flattened from above. Gregor had flipped unintentionally in midair, and landed on his back square over the abdomen of one cutter, crippling or killing it on impact.

Repulsed and shocked by the discovery that he was amongst foes, he leaped off the corpse of the cutter just to leap into the pinchers of another. The wide mouth of the beast instinctively widened and clamped down fully around his body, little teeth like appendages biting through his clothes and into his skin as the cutter thrashed around ferociously with its catch.

Gritting his teeth and groaning in pain, Gregor strained to reach for his pocket, and was only barely able to dig his numb fingers deep in enough for his to pull out his gun. He whipped it out in a single, fluid motion and pulled the trigger instantly, hardly even taking the milliseconds to aim it at the beast. The pinchers released him instantly as the creature fell away with an anguished cry of surprise, and Gregor crashed to the ground just as the fallen's fellows turned to act against him.

If not for his rager instincts, he would have been stomped to death in an instant. As it was, though, pure subconscious reflex shot him to his feet just as the cutters closed in the gap in their ranks. He leapt up so fast that he actually surprised himself, and many of the creatures accidentally dug their claws and teeth into each other as they lunged. Gregor came down atop this connected, bloody mass with an unstable balance, and found himself standing atop the head of one dismembered body and the torso of a reeling hopeless.

His mind was already working at an escape route, even as he shot dead two adversaries and swiped away four more with his scimitar. The small cavern he had opened into was smaller than the other two he had previously trekked, but this also meant several less tunnels led away from them. He didn't have enough time to locate one of those narrow egresses as he slashed through cutter brains, but he could tell that the tunnel was only ten meters wide, roughly.

Ducking an attack, he stabbed through one of the creatures and used its body as a shield. Running forward with the dying cutter still resting over his sword, Gregor did everything possible to get himself to the other wall. Cutters stood unfazed ahead of his rampage as he ran, screaming a war cry with his deathly dry throat, taking the sharp tip of his blade in the effort just to slow him down so that the others could finish him off. Their plan might well have worked, had Gregor allowed his tired arms to fail or slowed down any little bit. As it was, though, it took only one bullet to defend himself against the following onslaught, although he did sustain several tiny glancing blows as he ran. Through the attempt, though, he reached his destination.

He was tempted to throw away his sword (still carrying the dead cutter corpse and remnant body parts of others) as he reached the wall, searching desperately for a tunnel while he monitored the cutter attacks still coming from behind. It was neutralized for the moment, and he was forced to fire three more shots while he considered options. In the end, though, he took the extra moment to shrug the appendages from the sword, just as he found an escape tunnel relatively wide and resting perfectly into the floor.

Gregor slashed his way through two more of his assailants, ducking to avoid any chance of hitting the roof and sprinting right down in the passage. So many cutters actually tried to follow him at the same time that he heard a sickening _crunch_ as they all jam-packed and got their compressed bodies stuck in the tunnel mouth.

Breathing a quick gasp of thanks, Gregor rushed up the first slope of the path and did his best to keep track of where his movements were taking him. His breath was coming in great gasps now, and his side felt like it was white hot with fire. He couldn't stop, though. He had come to far to succumb to something as weak and conquerable as fatigue. And he was pretty sure had was very close to Eris now.

The traffic jam of bodies behind him had been broken, and he quickly became aware of the chase reawakening with a renewed vigor and anger. He pointed his gun over his shoulder and blindly sent two more bullets spinning into their midst, but it was a relatively futile attempt. Where he was tired and anxious, the cutters were coming on fresh and anew, intent on only one thing: stopping him from getting away. Grudgingly, Gregor had to admit to himself, as he skidded around stones on a tight turn and nearly ran into the following wall, that the only way he would ever be able to outrun any creature anymore would be on the straight away. Which would involve a clear, open cavern passage. Where he would be clear to be picked off from any angle.

He had no choice anymore, though. He heard the cutters get closer with every step he took, and his head began to feel heavy as sweat poured out over his face. Weariness was descending quickly over his mind, but he kept forcing one foot ahead of the other, telling himself to move faster instead of slower. If he slowed down, he would never get back to speed.

Things were bleak and hopeless, but just when he thought that he would be overrun and killed in a narrow tunnel it opened out once again at floor level and he was able to straight on relatively level ground, as a nice-sized, long cave suddenly presented itself.

Gregor turned so that he was running parallel to both walls, down in the direction he suspected was away from the center of the Lair. His mind so fuzzy he wasn't quite sure of anything anymore, he couldn't do anything to pray for Eris to come, to hear his situation, to bless him with arrival. He didn't have the breath nor the voice to call to her, and he had no way to even know if he was in the tunnel he had left her in, or even anywhere near to her. It was all he could do just to keep running away, as the cutters began to pour out of the tunnels behind him and start pursuing with increasingly fast steps.

He couldn't go on anymore. His lungs were giving in. His brain was gone, in blackness. All that was keeping his legs moving anymore was unconscious adrenaline and instinct, and even that wouldn't propel him for long. Doomed was an understatement for him now. There was nothing, and now Luxa would eternally be in danger, from right inside her own home, because he was alone.

Ironic.

Suddenly, he tripped over a loose stone. He was barely able to recognize the feeling of falling as he was thrown off his feet by gravity, but managed to hold his hands up before him to prepare himself for the instant impact with the ground. There was no chance for him to regain his balance, but instinct took over anyway. This was how it would end, with him falling right for the ground and rolling head over heels in semi-consciousness until his enemies caught up and devoured him.

But Gregor never hit the ground.

It took him a long time to realize it, but eventually he came around to realize that he was flying through the air, not careening towards the ceiling nor falling towards the floor. A moment after that startling revelation came to him he noticed the sharp talons digging into his shoulders, and looked up to echo a small bat carrying him with little effort by her hind legs while she flapped away with intensity from the cutter army beneath. The flier still held him the way she had caught him when he stumbled, saving him from the end only by brilliant timing.

He didn't have enough energy to say Eris' name.

They flew like that for only a brief time before he felt her limbs tire over him. She pulled up abruptly, but his inertia kept him moving forward. Releasing him above and ahead of her, he flew free falling through the air for the briefest of seconds before she flew below him. He landed in an exhausted heap on her back, and she righted herself slightly in the air so that he wouldn't fall off.

Climbing roughly into a sitting position with his dead arms and legs, Gregor was just able to whisper her name directly in her ear. "Eris..."

"What did you find?" she demanded, her tone soft but frisk in the darkness, as she flew so fast that the cutters actually began to recede behind and everything passing by turned into nothing but a blur. Then again, though, the blur could just have been caused by his dry mind.

He barely comprehended her answer as he abruptly began to sink into unconsciousness, but he came up with the only thing he could consider the appropriate response under the situation.

"Fly," he croaked out. "Talk later... Fly... now..."

And then he passed out of oxygen deprivation.


	35. 34: Two and Two

**Number two of the double posting. Ugh, I'm not too proud of this one. It was kind of rushed. Oh, well. We're almost there, amigos. Hang in there. Chapter 34. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: How many times have we been through this?**

**34**

**Two and Two**

Eris was smarter than she looked. Which meant, as Gregor found her to appear exceptionally intelligent, a lot smarter than he had originally imagined.

Gregor was passed out for much of the next twelve hours, which, in Underland time, took them through the night and back out into the early morning. The next day, Luxa would be married, and now, Gregor realized, there was something other than jealousy that sparked his concern over the eternal bonding. He couldn't allow it. Not with what we knew. Not anymore.

For the twelve hours that he was generally out or too groggy to move, Eris flew away. If it were Equinox, they would probably have flown right back to Regalia, regardless of what followed them. This would most likely result in exactly the same outcome as before, more or less a straight invasion of the city by angered cutters, except for this time the city wouldn't be happy to see the two of them coming back tailed by such enemies. Even if they had the evidence to prove Luxa's abductor. Now, however, with Eris, Gregor awoke after his unconscious and reviving respite, and learned immediately from her that she had done no such thing as think to fly back towards Regalia. Instead, she had flown _away_ from it, zigzagging as much as was possible through tunnels and passages, doing everything to get the cutters confused and off their trail. Her superior speed continued to gain them more and more distance until eventually there wasn't even the sound of the rumbling hunters behind them. When they were both efficiently confident that they were home free, or at least safe for the moment, they took refuge just inside the gnawer grounds, safe from attack by the wary patrols but not entirely welcome as it was.

After twelve hours of rest Gregor was ready to tell his tale and collaborate nonstop, but Eris, after her own twelve hours of flight, found herself too tired to do so. As she flapped her way into a small, secluded cave in the middle of a tall wall in one of the passages, she barely had enough strength to wait for him to hop off before collapsing to the floor in exhaustion. Without even words, Gregor realized that there would be no discussion until Eris received her own rest, which meant even more time dead and gone. Still, there was no way to avoid it, so Gregor just left her as she was, unwilling to disturb her should she already be asleep, and went to sit at the cave opening out into the cavern passage, taking watch while the flier began to snore in a foreign way slightly behind him.

As she slumbered and recovered stamina in unconsciousness, Gregor let his mind drift back to the facts he had seen and discovered back in the Lair. In his opinion, the evidence was indisputable. He had no idea how the court system of the Underland worked, or, actually, if there even was one, so he had to resort to comparing through the Overland one. Through that, he ticked off his necessities on his hand as he named them off: as far as he could tell, he had evidence, at least one witness in Eris, and perhaps the statement of the soldier where the Viceroy made the first call of Luxa's abduction in the first place. There was only one thing he was missing, as it turned out, but that one thing was suddenly the most important one, the thing he needed or his whole case and accusation would fall apart.

A motive.

And that was one thing Gregor couldn't wrap his mind around. It made absolutely no sense. Arthur didn't stand to gain anything from Luxa's abduction by the cutters. If he thought about it, Gregor could actually see how it was _bad_ for the Viceroy. He was in direct line for the male throne of Regalia and the Underland human population. With Luxa gone, though, that was forfeit, and he might drop even farther by the fact that some of the council and citizens might actually blame him for the occurrence in the first place. And Arthur was too smart not to see that, Gregor was positive. If this had been pulled off, then the Viceroy would have examined every angle thoroughly to weigh whatever risks would come out of it. Gregor just didn't know from which angle the man was looking at the problem. Maybe that was part of the mystery, another way to throw people from his trail.

Damn, the guy was good.

Nothing to gain, everything to lose, yet Gregor was as positive that Arthur was the culprit as he was of the Viceroy's intelligence. There must have been another explanation, another thing he wasn't quite seeing, some reason he was completely overlooking out of habit or absurdity, but what had to be the correct answer for elimination of the impossible (or drastically improbable). He rolled his mind over every possibility he could comprehend, and then back over it again, and then for a third time just because he couldn't think of another justification. Never once, though, did he come across a plausible answer to why the Viceroy would abduct his own betrothed and send her to a foreign enemy, supposedly in a shaky alliance only, for an unknown purpose.

Gregor considered the fact that the cutters had requested Luxa specifically _after_ Arthur had struck up the deal, but he didn't believe that to be so. It had been intentional, concocted and arranged well in advance of the agreement. One of the parties had gone into whatever negotiations there were with Luxa specifically in mind. Gregor could see what have happened if the Viceroy had only agreed to the cutters demands because they would kill him if he didn't. After all, he had been the one to plan the rescue mission, and the disappointing act of retreat and subsequent kidnapping could have been done out of nothing but selfish fear. It was the most plausible answer that Gregor had so far, but for some reason he didn't see the Viceroy as the type of person who would be subjected to such obvious disruption. He didn't buy it.

If this wasn't the case, though, the only thing he had left was that the cutters had asked for Luxa and the Viceroy had delivered without hesitation, setting up the retrieval idea only as cover-up. But in that scenario he saw nothing on Arthur's side of the deal, leaving him once again at a dead end.

There was another thought, actually, but it made so little sense Gregor could hardly spare it thought: if the Viceroy had gone to the cutters, and orchestrated the entire attempt himself with the idea of abducting Luxa from the beginning, then his side of the bargain was sealed. The cutter's end was not, but that wasn't presently important. The only problem there was what he had addressed earlier, the no reason move where he could find no plausible excuse for the Viceroy's need of Luxa abducted.

He was stuck. Again.

For hours, he poured over the mystery, trying and failing to conquer his rabid thoughts. He used a cupped hand to get a small drink of water from a dripping stalactite, which did only a little to ease his mind, but more for his throat. He didn't come any closer to an answer, nor eliminate any of the possibilities. He hit dead end after dead end, only to turn back and hit more in the opposite direction. Eris just kept sleeping and sleeping, but he found that he couldn't wake her, for he had slept longer, and he had done it one her back in midair. Even when time began to run low.

At one point he realized that it had passed midday and that the next morning was the arranged time of Luxa's marriage. He had less than a day to stop the worst event in Regalian history, if the Viceroy hadn't already pushed the occasion forward earlier. He fingered his gun unconsciously from where it rested deep in his pocket, but resisted the temptation to pull it out. He only had two bullets left, and, law permitting, he planned to put at least one of them in the Viceroy's head. Until then, though, he had to save them from any other act of shooting.

After a while, he just stopped thinking altogether, and tried to let his problem-solving mind grab some rest, even as he used the extra attention to double his watch efforts. He need a second opinion, and for now he would have to wait until _his_ second opinion woke up.

As it turned out, Eris slept for close to the same period that he had on her back, taking their silent stay in the cave well into the night hours before she rose from her slumber refreshed and ready for thought. So much time had passed without action or resolution that Gregor could barely restrain himself from waking her in the last few hours, so desperate was he for a conclusion. He didn't, though, and his flier companion awoke in a general good mood.

Without preamble, he immediately explained his theories and suspect to her. To his gratitude but not surprise, she took the extremely likely idea that the Viceroy was the offender and traitor in stride, much easier than he would have and quicker than he would have expected from anyone. She interrupted only once, to clarify a point somewhere, but otherwise left his speech unhindered as he ranted through his columns of evidence and displayed for her scrutiny and criticism his two most likely scenarios of motivation for the Viceroy's doings. Only when he had finished his entire explanation and found himself wheezing for breath did she respond.

"You believe the Viceroy to be the culprit because he wore a gown of the same fabric of which you found inside the Lair?"

Taken aback, Gregor could only recover fast enough to be honest. "Yeah. Why wouldn't he be?"

"I have not seen this exact cloth before, but I know that many of the exports and imports that run around Regalia are common and abundant. I find it highly possible that this is just coincidence. Viceroy Arthur might have simply bought the robes cheaply off of a desperate cheap vendor."

Shaking his head, Gregor pulled a denial from thin air. "This isn't a plain fashion, it appears and is made far too regal to be sold at low cost on the streets. This is high-class merchandise, and Arthur used it to bargain with the cutters."

"You're seeing patterns, Overlander, where there are none."

"Eris!" Gregor seethed, angry at the turn of events. He had pictured many times while she slept the moment when he told her of his suspicions and ideas. Each time, though, she had backed him up. "The Viceroy took Luxa off of that ledge, he traded with the cutters through this fabric... He's somewhere around two inches taller than me; that bootprint we found was just larger than my foot!"

"All circumstantial," Eris replied with something that sounded like grudging contradiction.

He was losing the battle, but he was positive he was right. He had to find some way to convince her, or he would never get back to Regalia before Arthur would be made king. No matter his intentions at the beginning he had turned into something evil, and now higher authority would do no good for Regalia, not to mention what danger Luxa was and would be in. Just half a second of thought of what would happen in the night when the two were left alone made him shiver in pure revulsion and nearly drop to his knees in horror.

Then, like a sign from above, from Ripred's essence, from God, from something, another piece of the puzzle clicked inside his mind, and his dejected head shot up so fast that his neck cracked loud enough to echo across and inside the cave. Eris actually jumped back a step in reaction, but his mind was too occupied to notice or apologize. A moment later, his memories registered.

"Eris," he said excitedly, making odd gestures through the air as he tried to convey his message to her. "In the room where I found the fabric, there were crates. I never saw what was inside of them, but they had a symbol on the side, and the cutter I questioned told me they came with the cloth. This symbol... it was a black circle with a white 'X', and then a red lightning bolt running down the center. Isn't that _the symbol of The Fount_?"

Eris regarded him with a blank stare for a moment. "What is this... lightening bolt?"

"Lightning bolt!" Gregor toned loudly, trying to make the shape in midair with his hands but failing. "Uh, here." He bent down in the darkness and put a finger into the dirt, drawing out the shape of lightning streaks into the dirt. "This, a lightning bolt. A line that zigzags back and forth repeatedly. In the Overland it's a discharge of charged particles with... well, never mind. But here! Isn't that the goddamn symbol of The Fount?"

Eris stared down into the dark, getting an echo of the shape, and thinking of his description for long moments. Finally, when he was beginning to lose his patience, she looked back up to him. "You say with a black circle crossed with white?"

"Yeah." Gregor nodded enthusiastically.

"That does fit the description of the symbol associated with the Fount," Eris said, her voice dripping with suspicion and uncertainty, but neither towards Gregor, he could tell. Almost towards their becoming clear evidence, which suddenly wasn't so circumstantial. "And Viceroy Arthur comes from The Fount. But still, this could just be the result of a cutter conquest over a trading convoy running accidentally over the borders."

"I don't think so," Gregor argued immediately. "The cutter I spoke to said everything was brought directly for bargaining. I would guess that that means all of the stuff was brought directly from the source spot right to the cutters, direct and easy for transport and ready for use and barter at a moment's notice. No middle man, no expenses, no records. Easy to cover up."

"Still pure speculation. And the motive is still not there."

"Screw the damn motive! We have enough as it is! The motive will come later!"

"We will never have a sound case unless we have _all_ the pieces."

"Eris," Gregor said, clearly making the forced calm in his voice plain for her to hear. "I'm going to ask you to do something for me. Just one little thing, one little time, never again in either of our lives, ever. I need you, right now, once, just this very little once, to trust me. Trust me with this one, and back me up, because I know I'm right, no matter how many people tell me otherwise. I am _right_." He looked up to stare her right in the eye, even in the darkness seeing everything he needed to.

He took a deep breath and added the last view words effortlessly. "Please. Trust me."

For the longest of times, they stared into each other's eyes, neither saying a word, Gregor silently begging for her just once (or so) to go along with what he had to say, to try and believe even as she tried to find some way to contradict him, just so that they didn't return empty-handed just to see their mission failed in the wake of their great revelation. But he _knew_, positively _knew_, that there was nothing clouding his vision, no disturbing love to make him believe Arthur to be the false bad guy in the situation. He had only his pain left, and all of his angst and mortal turmoil were telling him nothing except the fact that the Viceroy was a very bad man, no matter how he had started out, and nothing but evil would leak out from him onto Luxa and Regalia. He had to be stopped, and Gregor would willingly go to any lengths to do it. As long as he had Eris' help.

And for once in his life, he had never been happier to hear a flier's reply.

"Queen Athena was never especially approving of the ambassador from The Fount. She had many an eye of her inside advisors on he, and still, even after the point where he pledged his life and property and many other things to Queen Luxa, our most valued ally, in proposed marriage, she was suspicious. I will not say that it is quite possible you are jumping to conclusions, but, as you so wish, I will grant you my trust. For the general moment, I trust you to be confident enough that you will not fail. If the Viceroy is as evil as you believe, then we will stop him. And if he is not, then we will stop him. Either way, we will not turn back the moment we leave this cave with intentions. Do you truly wish for this attempt?"

"Hell yeah," Gregor said, still thanking luck and trust for siding with him on this one. "Thank you."

"As I'm sure many a person has told you before, thank me when we have killed the perpetrator, or been locked away for destroying the wrong person. Until then, you are leading me forward, whether to doom or triumph. I believe time is not on our side."

"Too right."

"Then we will hasten."

So just like that, Gregor climbed upon Eris' back and began to fly away, back towards Regalia, finally able to fight the power behind Luxa's abduction, after weeks of turmoil, of guilt, of death-ridden devastation. Finally he would kill those who had taken so much away from him. Finally he was on his way to doing something other than looking for something to do, something to help him out as he attacked whatever he could as he ran away. He was done running away, though. Now he was running straight towards, right at the heart of all his problems. He never even stopped to think of how much Eris had just sacrificed, through her own pride and self-reliance, to throw her complete trust behind him at that moment, when he needed it the absolute most.

As she jumped out of the cave, his mind was already back in Regalia.


	36. 35: Race of Time

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: Castaway5 (x2), shadowblade546 (x2), Ailat, ali, november21, and T.R. Miles.**

**Epicness. That's what's on the way. This is the last chapter where you'll be completely in the dark. Savor it. Chapter 35. Enjoy!**

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**35**

**Race of Time**

The gnawer lands wrapped around the Cutter Lair, so that while Eris and Gregor had taken brief refuge in gnawer lands they were actually on the opposite side of the Lair as Regalia.

Moving back, Eris tried to find a route that they could utilize back through the cutters' territory so as to conserve their timing as much as possible and arrive in the night, thereby surprising the city, then hopefully the Viceroy, and being able to take action whilst their state and arrival was mostly in confusion.

Even before they had passed back into cutter territory, though, the sounds and rumblings of close proximate cutters assaulted them with air vibrations, and it didn't take much thought thereafter to deem passage completely and assuredly unsafe. Left with no time to try and think of drastic alternatives, Eris began to make their slow way all the way around the curve of cutter territory, through the gnawer lands until they would reach the human border. Gregor was distraught over the time loss, but it couldn't be avoided.

For the better part of what he estimated to be the night, they flew through the dark, wary of the closeness to the cutters and the gnawer patrols that periodically rotated below them. They were so solemnly aware of every ticking second as it passed by, lost and more lost with each stroke of Eris' well-muscled wings, less of which to work with every moment they made their way even faster and faster. Gregor was already trying not to count down the minutes until Luxa would be sworn away to a traitor, but tried to chastise himself from doing so and turn his mind to other thoughts. Much too soon to worry of such things.

His memory of an Underland was sketchy, but he had also only seen a few complete ones in his entire time beneath the ground. Eris, however, seemed to have perfect recollection of such things, as well as perfect calculations for their distance traveled, and never differed once as they finally reached the desired curve. Angling through tunnels in which both her belly and Gregor's bowed back grazed ceiling and floor, she shot around what was apparently the end of cutter territory, whipping at full speed around until they were bee lining straight for the human lands.

At one point she slowed slightly, only so that the beating blasts of her wings wouldn't drown out the sound of her voice as she spoke loudly to Gregor in mid, uncomfortable, flight. "No doubt the border guards will have an even tighter lock down on any approaches to the city as this point, so close to her majesty's wedding. What are we to do when we encounter them?"

"Concentrate on the flying," Gregor replied without hesitation, mind already at work. "Get us there, fast. I'll worry about the rest." His mind needed occupying anyway, and he truly had no idea how he was going to face down hostile allies without hurting them or them hurting Eris and he. Eris complied with his wish, and restarted her flight speed with even more intent.

And even as the slow hours passed, and they got closer to their destination back in Regalia, and the night hours began to pass into early morning and then towards waking times, Gregor poured over and fully pondered the problem at hand. It didn't involve much problem solving, truly. In the end he simply decided that there wouldn't be enough time to stop and explain their situation. He would just have to find a way to dodge any projectiles and or capture orders that were thrown at the two of them. If they stayed in the air, this shouldn't be particularly hard. He was more concerned with what would happen when they would have to land. Anyway, though, that was a problem he would only know how to handle when it actually happened, and wouldn't be able to think about solving that until it actually happened.

They cleared the gnawer lands, and began the quick stretch across the ten-mile dead land, neutral zone, that was laid out at the point of the three-way intersection between the gnawer, cutter, and human territories. He had only crossed his eyes over it in passing upon maps, but understood it to be the remnants of a once-rich land that had been scoured dry to make up for the losses of the Time War between four and two years previously. Most of it was a massive cavern not unlike the giant Lair cavern, only the pillars supporting this distant ceiling were many and very thin, spaced out nearly equally across the wide, smooth rock floor.

It took them somewhere between fifteen and twenty minutes to cross it, and then they hit the border of the human lands.

Eris began to fly so fast, through familiar tunnels she seemed to know well, that Gregor found it suddenly difficult to register the switches between the narrow, close together tunnels. He began to periodically tighten his knees' hold on her body, as the turns became tighter and less banked. Every time she arced or leaned to shoot through a smaller gap he lowered himself closer to her back, wary of the close proximity of his head to whatever which wall he was closest to hitting each time. All the while, he was trying to get a sense of how close to Regalia they were.

An entire hour passed where they did nothing but zig and zag constantly through smaller and smaller passages where the gaps of safety became even smaller. Twice Gregor almost asked her to slow down for nearly throwing him off. Both times, however, one remembrance that in only a short amount of time Luxa would be walking down the aisle to the rest of her lying life, perhaps right at that moment if his time estimates were off, was enough to keep his mouth shut.

Eris must have been going faster than even she had believed they could. At one point the recently healed scabs of Gregor's scars ripped themselves back open and began to bleed freely again onto his clothes, purely from the friction with the air. He would have put a piece of cloth or a hand over them to stamp the blood, but he had to concentrate completely on staying on Eris' back with all of his mind power or he would find himself in midair, heading straight for a very hard stone wall.

Then a light began to filter into some of the tunnels and small caves, and Gregor sucked in a breath of anticipation. A moment later Eris out of a last cavern and light blasted them into hesitation. Used to the darkness of the Cutter Lair for days' time, Eris faltered only slightly by the intensity, but Gregor was nearly knocked completely off of her back, and continued to remain incapacitated even after she continued her flight. It took him several moments to regain himself to actually see the city.

The city was covered in light, the daytime torches and lamps lit and shining. The streets weren't empty of citizens, but neither were they jam packed in a congregation. That knowledge alone was enough to tell Gregor that the wedding was being held private and inside the palace. The palace itself stood just as it had before, except he could see several weak attempts at decorations in certain places that he didn't even care to characterize and identify, but told him that he had successfully guessed the actual day of the ceremony at the correct point in time. Anyway, his eyes were suddenly scouring the castle for any sign that would give him a precise location of the wedding he now had to do anything to stop.

A cry sounded from below as they approached the city, at the fringes, where the guards were located. Gregor looked down to see soldiers scurrying to arms. He wondered if they hadn't identified the two of them or were simply ordered to attack any intruders upon the city. Whichever one it was, a few words were obviously relayed, and then suddenly a startled line of archers pointed bows up, pulled back strings, and fired without much aim.

"Evasive," Gregor warned Eris, but it wasn't quite needed. She had already begun to make adjustments in their flight path, but even those weren't quite needed; only one of the arrows made it up to their high height, and that fell far behind them.

They continued without hesitation, ignoring the cries below as citizens noticed them. Eris intentionally began to fly lower, perhaps in an attempt to get Gregor recognized. It relatively worked, at least to the point where a few fingers were simply pointing now instead of accusing and screaming. No matter what was happening below, they just kept flying, hard and quick all the way up to the standard platform ahead of the castle, where a regiment of soldiers stood ready but unthreatening in the rear of the area.

Eris pulled up abruptly in the air as they reared to the stone floor, but took several seconds to halt in midair for her speed. Even before she had come to a complete stop Gregor had leaped from her back and rushed towards the soldiers, who had finally identified him and loosened their hold on their weapons, although not relinquished.

Without even waiting for the obvious lead officer to acknowledge him, Gregor ran for the stairs that led up and into the palace. Before he could get there, though, the captain and his troops moved to block the way. Gregor ran all the way up until he skidded to a halt directly in front of the officer, and then didn't waste a moment before snarling, "Move, captain."

"Overlander, sir, this is greatly unexpected," the soldier replied easily, with the perfect hint of interest and concern at the same time as he ignored the question.

"Whatever, it'll be explained later," Gregor groaned, beckoning him out of the way. "Right now get the hell out of my way."

"I cannot do that, sir," the captain responded with the same, easy voice. "I have been given explicit orders not to let anyone pass these gates until Queen Luxa's and King Arthur's marriage ceremony has been completed."

"On _whose authority_?"

"King Arthur, sir."

Gregor didn't have enough energy to be annoyed or horrified. He pressed on instantly. "How far in the ceremony are they?!"

"As far as I know, they have just begun."

"Then there's time," Gregor continued, half-relieved, more to himself than the soldier. "Move."

"I _cannot_ _do_ that, sir."

Gregor sucked in a nasty breath, preparing his words very carefully as he stepped as close to the soldier as height would allow. He stood a few higher, but the aura of command about his opposite nearly matched them evenly. Speaking very softly, directly into the soldier's ear as he stared past the man towards his troops, Gregor hissed his words quietly and carefully. "Captain, your queen is in very grave danger. Enough so that I won't feel any remorse in saving her life if I have to kill you to do it. You have ten seconds to get out of my way."

The only sign of fear came from the sharp intake of breath following his conclusion. After the briefest moment's hesitation, the soldier replied. "Are you threatening me, Warrior?"

"No. _You_ are threatening your city and your queen by standing in my way. If you don't think I'll sacrifice your life for the queen, then hold your ground, but I would advise against it. You now have four seconds left."

The soldier expended three of them, but just as Gregor was despairing, against his word, that he would have to shed blood, Regalian even, to save Luxa, the captain groaned deeply in something Gregor might have associated with annoyance, and then quickly stepped out of the way. A harsh hand signal to his men had them following the same reaction, and Gregor instantly plunged forward up the steps, taking five at a time in his haste to reach the top and into the castle.

He only hesitated at the very last stair, and whipped around. "Eris!" he called out, to where she still stood watching him from where they had landed. "Thank you. I'll pay you back sometime, I promise."

"I will collect, Overlander," Eris replied, composed and serene and standing tall in front of the numerous Underland soldiers. "Go and save the queen."

Gregor was already running deep back into the castle, though, and barely heard her reply. He listened quickly for the signs of obvious congregation, but couldn't catch the snatch of a single one. The halls were nearly vacant, except for a few stationed soldiers at precise points as he ran. Running hastily, still completely lost, Gregor dropped himself down to the floor and used the additional friction to slide himself quickly to a halt. Leaping back to his feet, he yelled at the nearest guard for directions to the room of the wedding.

A short amount of prodding later got him the horrible location, a massive chapel room he knew to rest over four floors above his head. He ran instantly for the nearest staircase, praying that his knowledge of the castle's layout didn't falter with his recent disruptive actions.

He cleared step after step, thinking of nothing except Luxa and how he needed to get to her. He removed his gun as he covered the first two flights, just in the case that he would have to put one of his two remaining bullets through the Viceroy in a few nervous moments. His whole body was shaking now, but he wasn't sure whether it was from fear or exertion or the stitch now ripping up his right side. All he knew was that he had to stop the Viceroy.

He hit the level ground running as he finally reached the right floor, careening as quickly as he could, soundlessly, down the corridor, past the suddenly startled and disoriented guards as he flew past. Running through his head suddenly was the fact that he knew the Viceroy was guilty, but the fact that none of the clues fit, and still he had no idea why Arthur would want to do such a thing as kidnap Luxa. He shot past even more soldiers, barely paying attention, and thought even deeper, into the marriage, the ceremony passing only a few more rooms down. Why? There was absolutely no in-depth way the Viceroy could find himself gaining something from the outside in the plan puzzle Gregor had fit together backwards. The Viceroy's cunning mind, the negotiation, the further plans. Nothing went with each other.

He was just down the hall, able to see the massive doors leading towards the place where his heart would break or explode, or both, and he heard Mareth's pronounced voice, evidently overseeing the ceremony, abruptly call for any objections to the current ceremony.

And then, just as he reached the doors, Gregor's mind did a back flip and suddenly, finally, clicked all the clues into place, solving the puzzle.

Skidding to a halt just as he watched it all close together in his mind's eye, Gregor was so shocked by his sudden revelation that he almost forgot to push forward and open the doors quietly into the room, before stepping in with a sudden fury.

Just as Mareth called for a second time, his face composed together in a composure of pure acceptance, and he raised his head perfectly as he looked out over the ceremony, trying to take in everything. The gnawer seniority in numbers, the carefully organized regiments of humans and fliers attending. The long, long, long aisle leading right up to the stand where Howard and Vikus stood looking on, Mareth overseeing the two people standing ahead of him. The Viceroy, straight and smiling. And Luxa, irrefutably the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He never hesitated as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Yes. _I_ have reason to oppose this marriage."

**END OF PART 4**


	37. 36: Explanations

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**All is revealed. Part 5 and chapter 36, the chapter of all chapters, are finally here… Enjoy!**

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**PART 5**

**HERO AND WARRIOR**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**36**

**Explanations**

"What in damnation is this?"

The Viceroy's voice was dripping with anger. He had turned completely away from her, swinging around to face Gregor as his eyes screamed utter fury. Gregor, though, standing in his torn clothes, wielding a face that cried the definition of composed and confident, didn't back down in the slightest. He didn't even look away or shift his footing. Even as Mareth stumbled forward to intercept the Viceroy's started steps toward her love, Gregor was already locked inside a staring match of evil looks, raised eyebrows, and masterminded eye emotions, and both wore glares so intense she might've guessed early that it was a contest to the death.

She was standing only a few feet from the general and her betrothed, but as the Viceroy moved towards Gregor and Mareth reacted, Howard came from behind and took a half-step in front of her, shielding her from any apparent harm while in a position to move into the mild struggle if he had to himself. Even as he did so Luxa saw Mareth get in front of Arthur and pace a firm hand on his chest.

"Calm yourself," Mareth growled, soft and low so only the Viceroy and the closest participants were able to hear. "If it is false, then you have nothing to lose. And if is true… then you would be smart to hold your place anyhow."

Luxa didn't know what to make of the statement, but she was wise enough to realize that this was neither the place nor the time to open her own mouth for discussion. Besides, her attention was suddenly captured in its full by the sight of Gregor striding elegantly down the aisle dividing the two sides of the room. Not once did his eyes leave the Viceroy's, but he walked on to mount the steps.

Mareth was still ahead of the Viceroy, but he took a few steps downward until he was before Gregor now. Gregor stopped abruptly, arm-to-arm with Mareth, and spoke briefly directly into the general's ear. Mareth replied quickly, and a few more words were exchanged before Gregor stepped off a pace, still staring at Arthur. Mareth moved off quickly to the side and spoke to the crowd. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but at this time I must ask that all attendants except for those members of the council of Regalia please leave."

A soft and slightly muffled chorus of disgruntled voices filled the room, most of confusion and anger tinged with curiosity. There were those few that sounded generally insulted for being asked to leave, but, slowly, the people began to stand and move from the room, still speaking with each other. Any questions and inquiries thrown at the crowd assembling near the front, the entourage of council members, were deflected by Mareth before they reached their target, and even the stragglers who insisted on staying to understand what the meaning of such an interruption was eventually gave up and shuffled from the chapel, sending annoyed looks over their shoulders and whispering grumpily to themselves as they went. Over Howard's shoulder, Luxa saw Aurora hesitate for a long moment at the door from the chamber, staring back at her with great and apparent worry. Luxa just nodded once in her direction, giving the signal that she would be fine, and smiled slightly to tell her bond she was perfectly fine. Aurora still hesitated, but finally, after Luxa gestured for her to continue, she slowly departed. Hazard similarly reacted, but Luxa waved him away, and he obeyed.

Mareth bent down and spoke a few words to the two dozen or so council members who had assembled, all who appeared to have as little idea as many of those who had just left. A brief conversation ensued, but finally, after two of them argued had argued with him over some matter or another, the general once more stood up and moved back to get between the Viceroy and Gregor, who were still eye-locked with each other.

The moment the large doors closed behind the last idler, leaving the room empty but for Vikus, Howard, Mareth, Gregor, Luxa, Arthur, and the council, the Viceroy snarled deep in his throat and spat out his words harshly at Gregor. "Overlander, I will have you slandered and destroyed for such an outrageous claim."

"Bite your tongue before you eat it," Gregor replied with equal venom and without missing a beat. "Any word you say I will use against you, and believe me, if it weren't for common courtesy I would already have killed you."

"Enough!" Mareth shouted, jumping in between the two of them even quicker than before. "The claim has been leveled, Viceroy, and it is within council jurisdiction. We will examine it with every finality."

"You cannot seriously believe his words!" Arthur cried. His mood was betraying no side of his actual guilt or innocence. He was portraying himself very well. For all she knew, he was truly outraged at such an accusation and had no idea what Gregor was speaking of. "You cannot believe----"

"He would not have brought it here unless he was absolutely positive that he could prove it. And if you try to leave until myself and the council dismiss you, then I will have you shot on sight."

For a long moment a shocked silence filled the chamber, much of the council and Vikus visibly surprised by Mareth's statement, Howard taking a step closer in case there was need for him to jump in, the Viceroy's gaze turned horribly on Mareth finally, and Gregor still doing nothing except keeping his eyes locked hard upon Arthur. The room had turned to ice, everyone either staring at Mareth or the Viceroy. Luxa began to think that they would remain like so forever, but, finally, Arthur looked quickly downward and gave the slightest of nods before swiveling ever so swiftly to stare down Gregor again. Once again, the Overlander didn't flinch.

"Gregor," Mareth toned, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he plunged into arbitration of crimes. "You accuse Viceroy Arthur of conspiracy and thwart in the way of sovereignty in the seat of the Regalian throne. Essentially, this is the highest of crimes, second only to regicide. You realize that you face charges yourself by making such a claim, should it turn wrong."

"Obviously," Gregor replied.

"Yet you still wish to go forward."

"Again, obviously."

"Very well." Gregor was receiving several disgruntled glances from the council members, human and gnawer alike, all shooting disapproval for his lack of proper adequate in the addressing to Mareth. He ignored them all, though, his eyes still locked in the same position, and Mareth took equal notice. The general simply nodded at Gregor's reply before stepping slightly aside, still in the direct path between the two heated opponents but allowing room enough for it to seem less than hectic. "It is apparent you understand your position. You accuse the Viceroy Arthur. State how you came about such an accusation."

"To tell the truth, I rightly have no idea," Gregor said. Before anyone could say anything, though, he immediately pressed on. "Ripred came upon it. He didn't know who it was who had done it, but he told me as he was dying, when the cutters tried to take the city after we got Her Majesty back: there was a traitor inside Regalia, one who had helped in the abduction of Luxa and who had handed her over to the cutters when they came. He told me to take over where he had started, find this traitor, make them pay for what they had done for our monarch and sovereign and make the city safe again."

"And you took a dying gnawer at his word?" one older council member stated, earning harsh looks from Vikus and Mareth, as well as Gregor, who finally managed to turn his gaze from the Viceroy, and every single gnawer member of the council.

Gregor's was probably the worse of all. Perhaps not the harshest, but by far the one that held the most anger and contempt. When he spoke a reply, it was in a quiet snarl, filled to the brim with bottled emotion. "When you speak of Ripred the gnawer lord, you seem to fail to remember that he did more for this city in his lifetime than any other creature in its entire existence, save perhaps Sandwich himself. He saved two species from a war which would have destroyed them both, and he realized both the faults in others and himself. When you speak of him, use respect, or hold your worthless tongue and don't speak at all. Yes, I took him at the final words on his dying breath, because I would rather take those than anything coming from yours."

Luxa's jaw dropped at his words, her looks mirrored in Hazard's and Howard's expressions and equaled in Mareth's raised eyebrow. Such a harsh rebuke, especially of an elder council member, regardless of the subject, might have actually given the council the authority to throw Gregor clear from the chamber. In fact, it probably would have, had every single caring member of the council been shocked speechless at that very precise moment. Even despite such an undesirable and truly foolhardy gesture and exclamation, Luxa couldn't help but grin slightly behind her queen's mask at Gregor's courage.

Mareth's recovery was the least and quickest of them all, and he was quick to keep Gregor talking. "And you come to us with nothing but the suspicion of the late Lord, and an uneasy feeling towards Viceroy Arthur?"

"Of course not," Gregor replied, taking a few steps backward for no apparent reason. "I never would have thought that it had been the Viceroy, as it so happened. As far as I could see at the time, the clues seemed to point at nothing except away from Arthur. So I trusted my gut and mind at the time and simply went looking for clues as to who it actually was who this was."

Gregor actually turned away from the Viceroy for the first time, back coming to face Arthur's eyes. For a brief second Luxa thought that her betrothed might actually throw himself at Gregor now that the opening was there, but he did nothing except hold the high ground he apparently had, hands constantly clenching and unclenching rapidly at his side. Seething in quiet was all he could do, but he was doing quite enough of it for one person to host.

Gregor began to pace as this was happening and pressed onward without waiting for anyone to reply or acknowledge his statement. "I started this four days ago. I didn't know what to do. I had no idea who it was, why they would do it, or what was possible that could have been done. I really thought that I would be running around Regalia for a long time, trying not to let Ripred down and doing my best not to screw up everything that had been built up without me. I need help, but I didn't know where to get it.

"First I went for help in my investigation to you, Mareth. You refused. I was already out of options, so I went right to Aurora, Luxa's flier bond. She would never leave Luxa behind to help me with what I needed, so I asked for some other flier she trusted. She told me of one named Eris, who complied with what I needed with admirable ease. She took me back where I need to go to find the answers that wouldn't appear on the outside: the Cutter Lair."

Many of the council members looked perfectly confused, while Mareth was regarding him with a mild expression of understanding. Arthur, though, in contrast, snorted loudly. "So you are meaning to tell us that you flew back into the Cutter Lair and magically an independent cutter told you that I participated in the kidnapping of my own devoted?"

"No," Gregor said simply, not halting his pace or turning to face the Viceroy. "The only thing I got poking around the city, as it turned out, was a lone statement from a guard captain that said it was _you_, Viceroy, that raised the alarm when it first appeared that Luxa was taken by the cutters. Perhaps you would be so kind as to explain that?"

"I saw a cutter running off with her on its back, from the wall of the castle into the mix of cutters," Arthur replied calmly. "I suppose you are under the insane impression that I put her there."

"No. I'm under the certainty that you put her there. Moving on from the point I was at, though," Gregor continued, "Eris and I flew back into the Lair. She was able to follow the trail the cutters used to enter the city by following their pheromone trail, up until a certain junction in the rock. By the way, she can verify any of this for you, if you still feel like contradicting me. At that point in the journey the trail became erratic, and we had to stop for fear of following the wrong trail. We discovered that on the ground of that chamber there were enough cutter footprints in the soil to represent an entire army, and that the way things looked by the way Eris could smell them, that location would coincide with a precise place for the entire cutter army to congregate before launching a massive attack on Regalia."

"So you discovered a place where the cutters marched from," the Viceroy said. "The relevance of that still escapes me."

"In the soil at the very edge of the floor lining the wall, we found a human bootprint that had completely escaped being scraped over by cutter claws. The foot was only slightly wider than my own, and even less longer." Gregor paused and swiveled until he was facing the Viceroy. "I'm willing to bet that you're print would be larger than mine, if only just, perfectly matching the size of the print that there was. Feel free to insult me if you find me incorrect."

The Viceroy's face seemed to become harder in appearance, but hadn't grown in color like Luxa and evidently Gregor had been hoping. He stared coldly back at Gregor for a long moment, and then, reaching a hand down very slowly, pulled off his right boot and chucked it clearly as hard as he could at Gregor's face. Gregor, in turn, plucked the hurtling missile of footwear from the air with as much difficulty as a gnawer eating anything edible, and only raised an eyebrow towards his opponent.

Swiftly, the Overlander dropped the boot to the floor, where it landed straight. Nudging it slightly with his toe, he pushed it into position to compare to his own footprint. Luxa looked anxiously down, trying to see exactly what the outcome of the measuring would be. Howard peered with her, while the Viceroy didn't move in the slightest. The results weren't long in coming.

The boot, compared to Gregor's own, was exactly the size he had dictated, slightly larger than his own on all sides, widening more and reaching out past a slight amount. Gregor left it there for a moment so that Mareth and then the council see, and then, as the elders whispered frantically to each other, easily flicked the Viceroy's boot back into his hand and tossed it back to its owner. "Care to explain that?"

"Coincidence," Arthur replied, either telling the complete truth or putting on a very good portrayal of it. "Simply because a random footprint matches mine does not mean it was I who put it there. Besides, this notion is completely absurd, and I find it very unlikely, in any event whatsoever, that you would find such a substantial footprint amongst the enemy."

"You have my statement and Eris' to prove it," Gregor declared, resuming his pacing. "And that's only the first clue."

Luxa's entire attention was captured, but she was beginning to see faults already in Gregor's assertions. For one thing, Arthur had slept a room away from her for months now. If he had been planning to get her out of the way, he could have done it in ways much more discreet and simple than a cutter invasion for the sole purpose of stealing the human queen. Besides, from what she could already tell from what Gregor was saying, Arthur would have no reason to do so. In line for the throne by marriage, it would have actually decreased his personal gain if she should disappear. Yet, there they were, and Gregor still looked as confident as the moment he had walked through the chamber doors.

Gregor had already continued his story. "We kept flying on then, but it didn't take long before we started to really get inside cutter borders. The patrols, watching for similar expeditions like Ripred and I executed in the rescue, kept getting bigger and more frequent, and before we could even get close to our destination, the center chamber again where Her Majesty was held the first time, it became too dangerous for Eris to continue with me. I had to go in alone."

"So now it's only your statement that we have to trust?" Arthur growled.

Mareth raised a hand and silenced him in a moment. "Viceroy, you are in a very compromised position at the moment. I suggest you watch your words."

"I have done nothing, and certainly not assisted in the abduction of my betrothed. I will speak as I will."

"To answer your question, Viceroy," Gregor announced loudly, cutting off Arthur with finality, "yes, all we have from here on is my statement. Under the circumstances, though, other things to come to your understanding allowing, I think that the council will find that to be significantly enough. Based on interpretation of the following statements, however.

"You can consider the journey as harsh and difficult as you believe it to be, but it took time. When I finally got there, there was another army amassing, except smaller this time. (While we're talking, I would also suggest having all forces of the city at battle-ready positions now for all times. It looked like they were preparing for war.) I managed to get into the central matrix spire of the Lair, where supposedly they protect their queen. I was originally looking for _her_, with the intent of interrogation. She would be the only one with selected individuality and would answer. Instead, though, I was fleeing from a patrol and it trapped me inside a separate passage. I managed to cut off the pursuit, but I got trapped inside, in a storage chamber of the Lair. Listen closely, this is where it gets really good."

His seeming ease and relaxation was irritating the council, but Luxa found it strangely amusing, even under the current situation and in light of the most recent revelation. Contrary to both, Arthur appeared neither annoyed nor humored, and that might have simply said that Gregor wasn't affecting his mind at all, and there was truly no battle taking place; the Viceroy was winning and would win without competition, and Gregor was fighting for her for nothing.

But he didn't give any indication of such an event as he kept talking. "There were only five guards in this room but I took them out without hassle. What's _really_ interesting is that there were crates in the storage room. Crates of human design. Crates that carried a human symbol." Gregor paused dramatically, but he really only turned to regard Arthur. "The symbol of The Fount. You just happen to be from The Fount, don't you, Viceroy?"

"Are you instigating that the cutters received these crates from me?"

"No, sir, I am not instigating it. I'm telling you that you did."

She would have sworn right there that the room temperature dropped by twenty degrees. Nothing but hatred was passing in the locked stare between the two men, and Luxa could actually almost feel the suppressed anger radiating off of Arthur. Still he was standing solid and firm, but now both Mareth and Howard were standing right at the ready to restrain him should he instantly leap at Gregor. Or vice versa.

Long moments passed in which the two men stared harshly at each other, Gregor still pacing, despite holding the locked gaze. Luxa was still aware of the metallic tube he held in his hand, unknown to her but evidently a weapon, for the way that he was still brandishing it rather threateningly and at the ready. She couldn't tell how things were shaping out in favor of one or the other, but whatever was happening was wavering very closely with the line of emotional tolerance. All present were treading lightly, hesitant to interfere but anxious for information.

The Viceroy first broke the silence. "First of all, how would I be able to transport crates from my home to the middle of the Cutter Lair without dying? Second of all, why would I? Third of all, how do you not know that the crates are simply the remnant of the salvage of a raid against a merchant convoy?"

"The answer to all of those," Gregor responded, "is one and the same. When I noticed the crates, I went to one of the cutters I had downed but not killed. I spoke to it, hoping for a reply, and, what the hell, it worked."

"A _cutter_ talked to you?" spoke a council member. Luxa's head swiveled slightly to see who it was. An old gnawer, one whose name escaped her, but very wise and peaceful for one of his species.

"Yes, a cutter talked to me. Believe me, sir, no one was or will be more surprised than I about that fact. Now, though, just listen to what that cutter had to say." Intentionally, purposefully, Gregor turned right to face the Viceroy as he spoke his next words, staring his opposite down and halting his feet at the exact same time. "At death, it said that a man came to the cutters, bearing offerings of peace. The man asked for collaboration over a topic that was unknown to the cutter, but it did tell me enough. Including the fact that this man was taller than I." He paused, letting the information sink in. "You are, in fact, taller than me, Viceroy."

"Which says nothing," the Viceroy hissed, concealing nothing behind his eyes. "There are many Underland men so, and even if it were to be true of this cutter speaking exactly what you say, I highly doubt that this person made it out of the Cutter Lair alive."

"Oh, he made it out," Gregor said, nodding his head to himself as he spoke. "He's standing right in front of me."

"I believe I must contradict you. It is not I who you speak of, and I still fail to see why you insist it is such. Speak the truth, Overlander, and maybe the council will spare you a less painful fate that what you are currently in line to endure."

With every passing moment, even after it had still been present during the initial accusation, Luxa felt all the respect for Arthur she had accumulated over many months slipping away gradually, but more and more over time. Even when she heard it, she couldn't believe that such a man she had grown to trust, but not quite love, could be capable of such an atrocious act as what Gregor was proposing. Even now, though, she suddenly had a view of the side of the Viceroy she had not before known, and was fearful to be in even so close to him in their space of the room.

As all of that thought was coming to her, Gregor was taking a deep breath. "The reason I believe it was you, Viceroy, is because I hate you profusely. Oh, and this." With the hand that didn't grasp the foreign weapon, he reached inside of his coat pocket, one she only just realized was bulging slightly. From its depths he pulled out a deep, dark black piece of cloth fabric, which was perfectly stitched and had a hint of crimson trim around the edging. As she observed it with a familiar interest, Gregor bunched it quickly into a tight ball, and tossed it at the Viceroy's feet. For the first time since the beginning of their intense dispute, Arthur took his eyes from Gregor's and placed them over the fabric, which Luxa still scrutinized with interest.

He looked at it once and then flashed his hatred back up towards Gregor. In a harsh voice, he hissed out one word, "Explain."

And then familiarity won out suddenly in Luxa's mind, and before Gregor could answer the forced command she found herself opening her mouth and the words stumbling from her mouth. "That... that is the same fabric of the robes you were wearing to Ripred's funeral. Exactly the same."

She looked back up, not towards Arthur, but to Gregor for confirmation. She was momentarily stunned and surprised to find his gaze resting on her for the first time of the morning, but recovered instantly only to be bombarded by the second shock. In the millisecond his gaze had shifted from Arthur to her, Gregor's eyes changed from devastating hatred to mortifying love, and the fondness in his eyes was so powerful that she almost ran to him, in front of the council and the remainder of her protecting force, to wrap her arms around his neck and wash her horrible predicament away in his embrace.

She managed to restrain herself at the final moment, though.

Gregor kept staring at her for a brief second longer, and then flitted back to Arthur. Nodding his head very slowly at her answer, he spoke with unconditional confidence. "Precisely. Vikus, please verify."

All eyes in the room except for the two men of center stage swivled to rest on Vikus, who shuffled uncomfortably with the effort of his aging memory suddenly becoming taxed. Long moments passed where no one spoke, where Vikus strained for his remembrances, and where a silent battle of dominant eyesight was waged and fought. It was nearly a minute before Vikus took a breath and answered. "I do believe that the Viceroy was wearing something in the make of that cloth."

"As do I," Mareth added.

"So you will try and convict me of a false crime because of what I wore?" the Viceroy said, although his voice was perfectly level and expressionless. "Because I wore clothing of the same item, which is common wear in The Fount, and the Overlander supposedly 'found' in the Cutter Lair?"

Something akin to controlled glee filled Gregor's voice as he kept talking. "Something like that, yeah, Arthur."

She wouldn't have been surprised if ice grew on their locked stare. "If you are accusing me of this with you every last effort right there, Overlander, simply come out and say it."

"Oh, no, Viceroy," Gregor said in a somewhat mocking tone, shaking his head exaggeratedly. "No, I don't pretend to accuse you of the crime with what I've just told you. After all, that was only the half of it.

"I just told you 'what'. Now I'm gonna tell you 'why' and 'how'."

Before anyone could say another word, Gregor had resumed his pacing stance, moving back and forth once again across the floor, already launching back into his words. "I'm guessing that you were always a smart child, Viceroy, am I correct? Yeah, of course I am, you've always been smart. Only I'm guessing that you were always smarter than the children around you, your friends, or, more likely, your enemies."

Periodically, he paused, looking right at the Viceroy to either observe the man's reaction or watch for signs of recognition, or both. Luxa was taking in every word with the intent of understanding, but just found herself confused and not entirely sure she was hearing right. After a moment, though, it became clear that she would only know more by listening, silently and patiently, until he told her exactly what she wanted to hear. Whether she wanted to or not, Gregor was going to say enough to make her listen, anyway.

"Of course, Viceroy, everyone knows that a children's dream is to be the king or queen, ruler or all, monarch and mighty to those beneath them. Parents might not encourage it but they accept it until the time comes when the child grows old enough to begin to realize that they would never become king or queen, which usually happens on their own." Gregor paused, and then turned his back deliberately on the Viceroy as he went into his next statement. "You, however, I believe, smartest of all of your classmates and enemies and ridiculers, never let go of that dream. Because you knew that it was within your reach. You were smart enough to realize that, with the right cards played very carefully, you could someday be the king.

"So, all the way throughout your life, you played those cards very, very, _very_ warily, always weighing the costs and benefits of them closely. You always played everyone on their best interests, making friends where you needed them and could exploit them, choosing your enemies as they were as you went. You did a pretty good job of it, I'll give you that, and eventually you were high enough to do exactly what you had meant to do from the very beginning: ascend in politics to a position of interest to Regalia and arrive ready for the taking of the throne.

"And please, this is all speculation, contradict me if I'm wrong."

Gregor had captured the room's attention greatly, but now all eyes swiveled back to Arthur, waiting anxiously for his response. The man's face was still expressionless, but his lips were clamped so hard together that they had turned even whiter than his Underland skin. He slowly opened his mouth and made his awaited response, but it was directly solely at Gregor's back in its sharpness and horrible anger, disguised by calm tone. "I fail to see your point in this, Overlander."

"My point, Viceroy, is that you were here in Regalia, and close to the queen. You were only that far away from what you had wanted and fought for ever since your young years, and you knew that you would be able to convince Luxa, always the giver for her people, to marry you. So here, thinking back, I'm guessing that you either caused the strain in relationship between Regalia and The Fount completely in the first place or you emphasized the point greatly, making it much more serious to be brought before Her Majesty. You and she would debate and debate, seeing the problem and trying to go for any possible solution. Then you would wait for the precise moment to spring your trap, the one moment where you could act like it was pure thought and last resort and not long-conceived plan. And then Luxa, seeing the brilliance in such a tactic, would agree.

"Suddenly, oh my goodness, Viceroy Arthur is going to be king!

"Isn't that what you wanted all along?"

Not one person in the room wasn't staring at Gregor with anything but confusion, his meaning long lost amongst the strange labyrinth of his words. The council had long been lost in the explanation, and even Mareth looked confused. The general, taking a step closer to Gregor, muttered in an undertone, "Gregor, what is you meaning in all of this?"

"Chill, Mareth," Gregor said, rebuking the general quickly and settling into something that seemed like relaxation. "All in good time, sir, all in good time."

"What does any of this enlightening information have to do with what you're accusing me of?" the Viceroy snarled sarcastically.

"Everything," Gregor answered, swinging around finally to face Arthur again. "It has everything to do with it. Kindly allow me to continue, and you will see exactly what I want you to.

"Here you are, Viceroy, set up to be king. You will be married to Luxa and the ruling male monarch of the Underland humans. The power is yours and the people are happy. You seem to be off and well in life, good to go and not coming back. Then, just as you're beginning to celebrate and savor your long-awaited and long-dreamed of victory, you realize the truth:

"You will be the shadow ruler, the one who sits behind while the other leads and does all that the people love. Luxa would be on top, while you would simply be her husband, who works behind and is never recognized for the brilliant mind that he is. You would effectively disappear, having your great title as King of Regalia... but vanishing as you are beaten from ahead by your queen, who seems to be your better to the people."

For the third time, Gregor began to pace. "So, here you are, king but not King, and you realize that you will not be what you have always wanted unless you were the one the people loved, the one on top, the one who they always look to when they need assistance. Quickly, you decide that you will do anything you must to get yourself into that position you want. Cleverly, you realize the position you are in that will help you towards the whole. And you begin to hatch your plan.

"The cutters are the horrible enemy of Regalia. If they were to strike, and you were to save the day, then you would be the hero. That, however, would be too hard to orchestrate, to execute, and far too romantic to prove plausible in reality. Plus, being the one above, you would also have to be beyond Luxa, the queen, to gain the highest praise. In this way, you wonder if you can't increase your status at the same time as you decrease hers, or use hers to get yourself up top. You probably think long and hard, and then you finally begin to come up with the layout for what will push you into the favor of the entire human species. You'll stage her kidnapping, and then go and get her out, the hero of all of Regalia.

"It's _brilliant_. All you do is go to the cutters, use enough bargaining and intelligence to avoid death and gain an audience with the queen of the cutters. Somehow, you manage it. You go in to the Lair to offer your goods as peace and speak, meet the queen, and tell her exactly what it is you want: the humans are a grave threat to the cutter species, so they should actually ally. You propose a simple agreement which will benefit them greatly. You tell them to attack Regalia, and then, in the middle of the attack, you will hand them the human queen. Then they'll retreat, and keep her with them, and keep her safe, and their side of the agreement will be fulfilled. In return, you have probably promised a firm alliance and a share of human lands to cede to them.

"But you never intended to keep your side of the bargain. You were going to let them take Luxa, wait a while, then turn out with the big decision to lead a force into the Lair and get her back yourself, taking out as many cutters as possible in the process. They did their part for you, so now they're useless, and they will never get the land they honestly agreed to. Then you return to Regalia, Luxa safe in your arms, and you become the great hero to the human people, the one who saved the queen, and suddenly, while the queen is still incapacitated, the cutters try to retaliate, and then war breaks out, and then you have to deal with it as the active monarch. Judging from how the human army will look with you at the head, you will defeat them easily and return a war hero, even more loved in the eyes of the people. Then you'll marry Luxa and you'll be King Arthur, the high and beloved ruler of Regalia."

Gregor paused, daring Arthur to say anything. Luxa was speechless, slack-jawed. Mareth was staring at Gregor as though the Overlander had just slapped him across the face. Howard looked petrified with surprise. Vikus was frozen with shock. Much of the council shared Mareth's reaction, and all stared at Gregor, perplexed at how plausible the idea actually sounded. Alone, Arthur stood staring at Gregor with the same expression he had started out as, and no one else spoke, leaving the chamber in perfect silence.

After the quiet stretched into straining length, Gregor shrugged and kept going. "I gotta say, Viceroy, that was a damn good plan. You had some room for error, some ability to choose your own points for the certain necessities, even the patience to wait until the perfect time to try and set the whole thing off. So many things went right that you were practically home free the moment you began. Except for the one thing that went horribly wrong.

"Ripred was suspicious. You knew that he wasn't looking right at you, but you were smart enough to see that he was looking at _something_, and was under the impression that Luxa hadn't simply been picked from her platform by ants. No, he was sure there was someone inside, and suddenly you had a problem. If you went in after Luxa like you had previously planned, just barging in with an army, Ripred might be smart enough to suspect something, then do a little snooping, and then suddenly accuse you. Then you lose everything.

"So you had to modify your plan in the middle. You couldn't go in, so you tried to kill two crawlers with one stone: you were gonna send Ripred in, and hope that he got Luxa back, but died horribly in the process, thereby eliminating the possibility of being caught. You went to him, turned on your sensitive side that doesn't exist, and convinced him to do it. The people would still see you well, especially if Ripred died, 'cause you still would have been the one to think of the master rescue plan. So you thought everything would work just as planned.

"Ripred didn't want to take an army. He wanted to go to the Overland and get me. You were fine with that; you didn't know me, but you figured I'd be average intelligence, not as smart as you, and easily overridden. So you let him do what he did, and hoped for success as we marched away into the Lair after her. You came to the platform to offer assistance just as cover-up to your true intentions, and it worked perfectly. But then we went in, and were doing everything possible to get Luxa back, and you were hoping that fate would bless you and kill the both of us while Equinox flew Luxa right back to you, safe and sound. And then you'd be a hero.

"But we didn't die. At least, I didn't. And we got her back. And Ripred got me the message of the deceit before he died, and I was able to do everything until this point. It was a good plan. You almost got away with it. A few minutes later and you might have had enough authority simply to throw me into the dungeon without provocation. But it wasn't a few minutes later, and now its over.

"You've lost, for the first time in your hard life."

Utter silence met the end of his speech, his entire accusation, and every mouth in the chamber save Arthur's was gaping at him, trying so hard to believe what he had just stated in very close black and white but finding it very hard to do so. Gregor stood, halted in his pace, actually heaving for breath, soundlessly and victoriously as he watched Arthur. Still the Viceroy hadn't moved, holding the same difficult position he had throughout his opponent's entire accusation. Luxa could barely comprehend what was happening for her mind was working so hard to process the following facts. Just as the whispers began to fly through the council, though, she recovered herself enough to hear Mareth speak right to Gregor.

"Gregor," the general said, somewhat quietly and directed only at the Overlander himself. "What you have said... is... believable. But... there is not any possible way that Arthur could have done all of that on his own, without help." Gregor evidently heard, but didn't speak for a moment, his eyes locked, as always, on the Viceroy. Finally, though, he did speak, and he spoke it loud enough for the entire room to hear it.

"That's because he did have help. Equinox was on his side all along."

A series of gasps flew through the room, starting with a startled Luxa, followed by a shocked Vikus and finally ending amongst the members of the council. Gregor held his composure perfectly throughout the reaction, much as the Viceroy did on the opposite end of the stare. Mareth himself was staring at Gregor like the Overlander was both brilliant and insane at the same time.

Howard, oddly enough, chose to break that particular silence. "If that is right, then when Equinox flew you into the Lair..."

"He was doing everything he could to make sure that we never got back out again," Gregor nodded. "And, you know, Viceroy, suddenly all of that makes sense, too. All the stuff Equinox did that was unexpected and unhelpful. He was in from the beginning, wasn't he? What did you promise him? A bond? A mate? Doesn't really matter, probably."

Gregor tilted his head so he was speaking into the direction of Mareth and the council, but kept his eyes, as always, where they had dwelt for the better part of his stay in the current chamber. "Equinox asked me why I wasn't using a torch when Ripred and I left him to go deeper into the Lair, even after he had clearly seen me use echolocation. He knew I didn't need the torch; he just brought it up so that I would think I would need one and then it would act like a beacon to the cutters as we would be running back to him with Luxa. Hopefully, for him, to lead them right to our feet and kill us. When we were flying back to Regalia with Luxa, the cutters on the ground were able to keep up with him in the air. We wondered why that happened, but now it's clear that he did it on purpose. He was probably going for the two of us to get the idea that we had to jump off of him and hold off the cutters on the ground, therefore we would both be dead and he would return unharmed to Regalia carrying Luxa on his back, just as much a hero as you would be, Viceroy.

"And that, Arthur, is the truth of your horrifying betrayal."

The final ending of his accusatory lecture brought a gigantic silence over the room. The council members were either staring at Gregor or the Viceroy, some with mouths agape, some still looking confused, and still others who looked increasingly worried. Mareth appeared nervous, but hid it well behind a relatively firm mask of composure. Gregor and the Viceroy were as they had been for the entire duel. Howard's teeth were clenched beneath his closed lips, and he still stood ahead of Luxa. Vikus was next to her, mirroring Mareth. She was perplexed and amazed and slightly fearful all at the same time, trying to realize just how much had been revealed to her. Also crossing her mind was that she had nearly married the man who had thrown her to the cutters, almost _slept_ with the man who had thrown her to the cutters. Her shivering at that thought was so visible that Vikus reached out a hand to steady and comfort her.

Eventually, Mareth spoke. "What is the council's judgment on this matter? To whom do you back with the truth?"

The council members didn't even converse. All at once one of the oldest gnawers stood and exclaimed, "We cannot make the decision of this. The Overlander's story has truth which seems plausible, but there are also many gaps to fill which he cannot himself. The Viceroy has earned the trust of this council many times over, and we cannot lightly take into account this accusation over that. In any event, it is not our place to judge." The gnawer sat down, leaving Mareth with an annoyed expression.

"How do you propose we proceed, then?" he asked.

"We do not know," another elder, a human woman, said. "This is beyond our jurisdiction."

"What is beyond the jurisdiction of the Regalian council?" Gregor asked, annoyance as plain in his voice as it was on Mareth's face.

"This is beyond the jurisdiction of anything," a younger human man answered. "Such as this has never happened, save perhaps in Sandwich's time. We have never had to deal with something as high as this. Any proceedings will be historical and monumental."

"If you let him walk away," Gregor warned, his intentions and mood clear in his tone, "I will kill him, and I really don't care how many of you I have to go through before I'm able to do it."

"But you present no proof that he is the perpetrator Lord Ripred suspected," a gnawer said.

"Can't you see him?!" Gregor cried, angry at the council members, tearing his gaze from the Viceroy for a brief period of time only to glare harshly at those who had spoken. "Couldn't you hear what he replied as? It's all the defense of a guilty man, and not even you can miss that."

"Excuse me?"

Gregor froze, turning back to face the Viceroy, ready to deflect any attack thrown at him at any near moment. Luxa could see the fingers of his hand running over the metallic weapon he held, as if he were drastically anxious to use it. He restrained himself, though, and simply looked towards Arthur as everyone in the chamber did the exact same thing.

"In the event," Arthur said, pronouncing each and every word in a way that Luxa couldn't identify but made her very insides curl, "that a decision cannot be made, I would suggest that we revert back the tactics that would have been utilized to solve such an issue as this in Sanwich's time, where it originally took place. Essentially, settle our feud the 'Sandwich' way."

At the exact same moment Vikus, Howard, Mareth, and a few members of the council cried, "No!" at the exact same moment as Luxa gasped. Back in Sandwich's time, in a strange new land with nothing established as of yet, there was only a single, bloody way to settle a disagreement, and everyone in the room seemed to know exactly what that meant except for one...

"I'm guessing that he means we have to fight to the death to see who's right?" Gregor said, correctly guessing exactly the scenario.

"Indeed," Mareth answered. "Arthur, I refuse to allow such a happening."

"It is the only way, Mareth. You should see that. There is a disagreement over a grave matter, and we must resolve it, using one method or another. There is simply no choice opportunity in the matter."

Gregor broke the argument with an interruption. "Why would he even suggest this if he had even the slightest confidence that he could prove his own innocence?"

"It doesn't matter that way, Gregor," Howard said, jumping into the mix and earning a warning look from Mareth. "This is not our customary method of punishment... or decision. If we were to go about this wrong, the ethical repercussions would mock us for decades."

"Has anyone even asked me how I feel about this yet?" Luxa cried, slightly muffled behind Howard.

"Shut up, Luxa, you're not helping anything----"

"Gregor!" Vikus and Howard both shouted at the same time.

"ENOUGH!" Mareth boomed, heard above the reprimanding shouts, Luxa's angry voice, and Gregor's commanding insistence. A silence of seconds settled over the group, but it only settled in after a good few moments. Mareth looked around and around the room for that time, making sure he could see everyone's acceptance. When he was reassured he could, he cleared his throat roughly and spoke out. "Whether it is to our choosing or not, the only people who can make the master decision of such an arrangement are the two people who just so happen to be undertaking the duel. It is their choice, and theirs alone."

"So what then, Overlander?" Arthur called, over the space between them. "Will you take the challenge and face me to the death over who is telling the truth and who is the false?"

All eyes turned to Gregor, and Luxa resisted the drastic impulse to scream out and tell him not to do it. Surprising her, his eyes left the Viceroy's and locked with hers, staring deep down into the depths of emotions they barely knew they had. He saw her heart, what she wanted, but suddenly she knew that it would be irrelevant in whatever he decided. He was determined to make the choice that would be best for her, not the one she wanted. So she could only listen intently with the others, anxious and nervous and realizing that her very life and fate could depend upon the next few seconds, as Gregor finally spoke his reply.

"I accept."


	38. 37: Honor or Glory

**Thanks to the people who take the time to review: Castaway5, The One Called Demetra, T.R. Miles, saacool gregor and percy rocks, Robert, laxgoal31, november21, shadowblade546, and Timballisto (x2).**

**Well, that could have gone better... here's Chapter 37. Hope you like it more.**

**Disclaimer: If I didn't have one of these, I wonder if anyone would notice...**

**37**

**Honor **_**or**_** Glory**

There was to be no delay.

Neither of the two contestants wanted time to elapse before the duel, which would ultimately end one of their lives. Gregor himself was just anxious to take down the Viceroy as fast as was possible, then figure out exactly how much damage he had caused, both with Luxa, the Regalian council, the city itself, and the already destroyed relations and militaristic status against the cutters. Undoubtedly, the way things were going that day, there would be more wrong than would meet the common sense, and Gregor would have to pull the wool from the council's eyes before they would be able to detect it.

Immediately after Gregor accepted the challenge, the Viceroy was escorted away by a very armed guard, with Mareth in tow just to make sure nothing happened. Gregor was taken away by a similar group, only with Howard and a recalled York as his special guards. He was taken away into a room two floors below the chamber of the near-wedding ceremony made of solid gray stone, put into a room with nothing but a mirror and empty racks of armor and weapon storage. Howard remained, but York left, seemingly to arrange the battlegrounds for the coming duel. Gregor didn't really care for conversation, and Howard favored him with nothing but a stare that regarded something between gratitude and regret, so the atmosphere remained tense and quiet.

Until Mareth entered the room, followed by Hazard, and spoke an angry sentence that either spelled certain doom or tempted fate.

"That was not wise."

"Classic last words," Gregor replied, humor in the dark surprising him as he surveyed himself in the mirror. "Not what I needed to hear, Mareth. Besides, I got it covered."

"No, I do not believe you do," the general replied, walking up loudly to stand right beside Gregor in the mirror, clearly seething in calm quiet as he spoke. "I do not think you have any idea of what it is you just walked yourself into."

"What are you so worried about?" Gregor toned, confidently raising an eyebrow. "I can best him, easy."

But Mareth's eyes widened and he hesitatingly shook his head, staring at Gregor uncertainly and nervously in the mirror. "Gregor... The Fount like to compete with Regalia in any way possible, beat us in any possible, just because we think ourselves superior to them. They train their ambassadors in _everything_, including swordplay, for years."

"He can't be that good," Gregor shrugged, undeterred.

"I saw him take down Ripred once. In a spar. While Ripred was trying as hard as he could."

The blood still finding a way through Gregor's veins froze solid. "No. That's... not possible."

"I saw it, too," Howard said, his head downcast but his eyes staring right back at Gregor. "It was in the arena, on a sparring match day a few months back. The winner almost always went against Ripred, just to see how long they could last. Most only went a few seconds, but the Viceroy entered and won that day, and then he got through Ripred's defenses."

"Granted, Ripred did complain of having a terrible cold that day," Mareth added. "But you are quite aware of what he was like. All things considered, that was more likely than not just an excuse."

Gregor could do nothing except stand in place, still trying to tell himself desperately that what they said couldn't possibly be true, that he couldn't have possibly just signed himself off for a probable death at the hands of his sudden nemesis. He closed his eyes hard on himself, trying to will away the fear that was suddenly building up inside of him. It wasn't possible for something so basically disastrous as this to be happening, not after everything he had already gone through.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, thinking. Fatigue was far from setting in, but he was beginning to realize that he would need everything he had if he was about to attempt exactly what he was about to attempt. "No. This just isn't happening. We're _ragers_. Couldn't Ripred just have let him win or something?"

"Ripred does not 'let' people win?" Howard said. "Or did not. You, of all the people here, Gregor, know that."

"Never," added Hazard, his whole face contorted in something close to agony.

"You have put yourself in quite a hole now, Gregor. And I do not believe you can use your sword to vault out."

"No time to worry about that," Gregor groaned, already throwing his suddenly over-taxed mind into reviews of all his skill moves in close quarter battles. Memories charged through his head of fights he had won and undertaken without hope of survival, trying to find and catalog any tactic that might come around to save his life later. Disappointingly, he came up with precious few. "I don't suppose I can just shoot him, can I?"

"Shoot him with what?"

Grimacing at the irony, Gregor shook his head. "Never mind. Tell me about the parameters of this duel."

"The contestants, unfortunate fighters, entertainers, whatever you want to call them, are allowed armor and a sword. A shield is optional. A helm is illegal. The duel zone, by law, must be secluded and only lit by four standing torches."

"Why?"

"Do not come to me for an answer. I am reciting rules made centuries ago. The fight, essentially, is endless. You will be forced to battle until one or the other lies dead, unless both pass out, under which circumstances you will receive a respite and restart the fight at a later time. There will be no second to the first warrior; if you go down, you are down until they kill you or you fight yourself back to your feet. Interference from outside sources is not allowed. Other than that, there are only the obvious: survive or die."

"What the hell have I got myself into?" Gregor groaned, his eyes still clamped shut.

"Do not speak like that now," Howard said from behind. "Luxa needs you now. The council is naive; we are not. Everyone in Regalia will believe your story if you are victorious, as we already do. We cannot afford for you to lose."

"Pressure, wonderful. Just what I needed."

"Gregor," Mareth cried, urgency creeping into his words. "The moment you are ready, we escort you to the battle. You must _focus_. This is a battle you can win. Believe it or not, if there was one person in this world that Ripred had grown to love and take pride in, perhaps excluding the queen herself, it was you. He believed in you, probably more than you do yourself and than anyone could ever expect him to in any amount or possibility. Take his confidence, and use it to fuel your skill. You have inside of you what it takes to destroy Arthur; all you need to do is find it."

Gregor listened in silence. Most of what Mareth said was most likely false, only thrown in to give him confidence. That little bit that might be true, though, was enough to make his mind waver over the line of assurance and destruction. He was somewhere caught in the middle at the moment, stuck for anyone to find him.

Then Hazard spoke. "Gregor, if anyone will win, it is you. Do not think of the fight. Think of Luxa. Think of her and think of what he did to her, and I am sure you will find the strength. Just kill him in the end, kill him for what he did to her. Make him suffer. And always remember her."

Gregor opened his eyes and looked into the mirror, his eyes resting on the reflection of the still, young boy. He saw a lot of hatred and anger in the eyes, but mostly love and horror at what had happened to Luxa. The two gazes meeting through the mirror's face, something passed between the two that showed just how much the one cared about Luxa to the other. And a mutual understanding went with it. Gregor knew he could kill Arthur, and Hazard would make him do it. Just for the revenge the boy wanted. So he simply nodded to the Halflander.

And then Howard sighed and opened his mouth. "Gregor, if you kill that bastard, I will give you and Luxa my blessing."

"Even if you didn't I wouldn't care," Gregor said. "I'm gonna kill him anyway. Where the hell do I get some armor?"

Howard smiled, Hazard smirked somewhat evilly, and Mareth cleared his throat before sighing and speaking. "I have arranged for Miravet to find and bring some, specified by what I know of your current height. It should be sufficient enough to serve you for this situation."

"Tell me about the Viceroy. Statistic weaknesses, focal points, pressure spots, anything I might be able to use."

"He is good enough and smart enough to shield anything of use from me. The best I can give you is maybe deflect anything he throws at you and wait for an opening. If there is room for a kick, aim for his genitals, and hope that his armor is weak there. Otherwise, I am not aware of anything that he is considered less than exceptional in. Unfortunately."

"Type of sword?" Gregor said, taking in what little he could get in the way of his advantage and readying it for use.

"When I've seen him use one?" Mareth said, squinting as he looked back into memory. "A broadsword, I believe, though a smaller one. Perhaps four feet. Lighter make, sturdy but thin. Dodge it when you can, take a heavy swing when you have to block. Your own blade, I've seen, is weakened considerably due to the break at its head. I would suggest you find a new one to use for this fight."

"No," Gregor said, shaking his head and turning around to face the others. He pulled the scimitar slightly from its sheath at his side and examined the lower blade carefully. "It will serve me sufficiently enough. I won't try to block much."

"It might damage farther, and then become unusable and a liability," Howard warned.

"Don't care. It's the only then I'm willing to use."

There was a sharp rasp at the stone door at that very moment, breaking the conversation and Gregor's concentration. Battle scenarios and possibilities shattered in his mind, and he was suddenly back to thinking basically, observing the room around him, instead of his brain jumping ahead to the battlefield he would be embarking upon in only a few moments.

"Enter," Mareth said, turning towards the door as it pushed open. Miravet entered, pushing a wide cart filled with many different types of protective armor. She looked much as she had the last time Gregor had seen her, many years in the past, only seemingly older, a different coloration entering her hair. She crossed without comment across the room to Gregor, and began extracting armor pieces from the bin and measuring them up to him. Gregor let her do it, trying to get back to his mapping but feeling strangely self-conscious as she tossed pieces back in to the bin with grunts of annoyance.

Slowly, she began to find ones that fit with each other, and began to fit them onto him. The hauberk and arm plating was one-piece, and it was grafted over a shirt of thin, strong fabric, which would flex easily and not impend his movement greatly. When she found him a pair of leggings, he was surprised to find them light and easy to bend as he pulled on his boots once more over them. It was exceptionally state of the art of Underland crafting, and he looked with pride onto the fact that it was all black, which he would have previously ignored and been embarrassed by profusely.

He endured the entire process in silence. Only when Miravet pulled out a shield and brought it up for him to hold and test his strength with it did he speak. "No shield."

Miravet said nothing, but Mareth wasn't so silent. "That would not be wise."

"I don't give a damn," Gregor replied harshly, shrugging the piece of protection away with a shiver. Before Mareth could respond, he pushed on. "If he lands a hit with a broadsword and I have to use a shield to block it, then it won't matter whether or not I have one: I'll be dead. Without one, I'll have more agility, and will be able to dodge any such attack."

Mareth said nothing, but allowed Miravet to return the shield to the container. Not once had the armor woman spoken during the fitting, and rearranged her cart so that she could turn around for departure. Before she did so, though, she hesitated for a long moment of obvious indecision, before sighing and turning around to face him square on as he fidgeted in his protective coverings.

"This morning, I prepared a girl for a wedding," she said sadly, looking him up and down. "Now, I prepare you for a war in which that girl is the stake. I am old, but not blind, and I see you to be in the right. Do not fail her, or she will die, whether in heart or body or both, and then we will all die with her."

She turned around and pushed her cart from the room before Gregor could even recover from the surprise of such a short but punctual speech. At a loss for words, he watched her go with a gaping sort of expression and tried to find which was suddenly trembling: his body or his mind. Either way, he was shocked back to reality by the resonance of the chamber door booming closed behind the old woman, and found all three of his companions regarding him with slightly confused expressions.

"I apologize for that," Mareth said. "That probably was not what you need to hear."

"Nothing you haven't already told me," Gregor said, taking a deep breath and pushing the words to the back of his mind. Preparing himself for the momentary departure, he asked, "What's the point of all of this anyway? A battle for dominance doesn't prove who's right in the matter?"

"You have to understand, Gregor," Mareth said, trying to make it sound like it was difficult but usual, "that this is a crude and old method for a solution. In Sandwich's era, there were so few of us and so few resources that we just couldn't be allowed to war with each other. This was a quick way of resolution, while keeping dispute relatively quiet and secluded. It solved nothing in the way of who was right, but it stopped the fighting. I disagree with this method utilized here, but the Viceroy used it because it was what he realized was his only way out, and you took it like he wanted you to. Now it's too late to back out."

"Wonderful," Gregor said, sighting in irritation. Suddenly impatient and nervous at the very same, annoying time, he was seized by a great urge for adrenaline. "Is that all we can make of this, then?"

"I could affirm so."

"Fine. Then let's----"

A knock came at the door, solemn and slow, as if it knew what it had just interrupted and was trying to fit both the mood of the atmosphere and the wrath it might incur. Gregor turned his head towards the door in confusion, uncertain and suspicious of who else might try to enter his apparent preparation chamber at such a time. Howard turned backwards, also surprised, while Hazard shuffled slightly away from the door. Mareth, wary, rested a hand against the sword by his side as he turned towards the door. Clearing his throat, he rasped loudly, "Enter." The door slowly pushed itself open, revealing their visitor.

Luxa.

"Your Majesty," Mareth greeted, formally and only mildly perplexed.

Luxa nodded once and addressed him directly, even as she nodded to the other two of the room and found her eyes locked on Gregor's. "General, if I would, may I please have a moment alone with the Overlander. Completely alone."

Mareth raised his eyebrows in question, but Gregor sent him a pleading glance. The general hesitated, but slowly began to crumble. Looking once between the two, he sent Gregor a warning look to be interpreted as a 'be careful' sign and then slowly bowed and began for the door, gesturing for Howard and Hazard to follow him. "As you wish, m'lady."

He left the room quietly, followed by Howard, who favored Gregor with a small smile, and then Hazard, who beamed falsely at Luxa and sent Gregor an encouraging glance. Once the boy had ceased lingering and finally slid out the door, it clanged to a close again, leaving the two suddenly alone in the emptiness of the room, staring uneasily at each other in the quiet.

Gregor was seized by a sudden urge to run to her and catch her up in his arms, but resisted the impulse the same way he fought back his rager instincts. He held his position hard, flexing the tense, metal gloves he now wore as he waited for her to make the first move. She just continued to stand there, looking deep into his eyes and seeing something of which he could only speculate on. He could have just gone on standing there forever, not quite content but at least satisfied to a level in her presence. After several long moments of such action, however, Luxa slowly took shaky steps forward until she was standing directly in front of him, and then slowly reached up to undo the straps of his armor and tighten them carefully.

She had changed her clothing. Removed from the fantastic gown she had been wearing for her wedding, she was now in less formal but not quite casual attire, a strong gray tunic with the matching leggings and boots. Her hair was removed from the style it had been in, now braided back the way it had been, sliding down over her neck and shoulders and down her back. Her mere presence, much less appearance, still took Gregor's breath away, current circumstances still applied.

As she retied his left shoulder, he made a simple comment. "You changed."

"Such attire was inappropriate for anything except a consort ceremony," she said simply back to him, her voice calm and steady, her gaze locked on her fingers and no longer holding his stare with it.

"The gown was beautiful," Gregor muttered, his tone light and casual, right down towards her, trying to convey as much meaning and seriousness behind his words as he could. "Correction. You made the gown beautiful."

"Gregor," she interrupted him abruptly, her fingers falling away from the leather and resting on his chest, her head bent forward, still not meeting his eyes. Her voice was full of misery and anxiety, and Gregor was startled to hear it change so swiftly. "Do not speak as if this is a normal proceeding. You cannot afford to lose your focus now, especially over me. Regalia needs you right now to concentrate on what you know you must."

"Then why did you come?" Gregor whispered slightly, forcing his hands to stay rigid at his side, instead of shooting to grab her by the waist as they were so anxious to do.

"Because I need you to know," Luxa choked, finally raising her head so she could see his eyes and him hers, "that you will prevail. You are not the hero here, but that does not mean that it will stay that way. He is their hero, but you are mine, and you will not fail when you enter that circle to face him."

"You're a hero, Luxa. I'm not."

Looking deeply at him, Luxa slowly slid her hands from his chest up until they cupped his face. Even slower, she towed him down to lightly press her lips swiftly once to his, before pulling back slightly. "Perhaps not. But even the villain can sometimes succeed. Do not loose sight of that fact."

For the briefest moment he could allow himself, Gregor let himself forget everything as he stared into her eyes. Then he tried to steady his voice as much as possible. "I love you."

"You cannot now. But, after the battle, perhaps we will see, yes?" She smiled at him, and, for a moment, his heart shot confidence enough into his bloodstream to propel his possibilities upward just a tiny bit. "I love _you_."

Far too fast for Gregor's liking, she removed her hands from his face and turned around, walking quickly, with purposeful steps, towards the door. He turned his gaze towards the ceiling as she pulled it outward and left him alone. Before it could shut behind her, though, Mareth slipped back inside, an occurrence he observed out of the corner of his eye without comment.

The general waited at the door, patiently observing him as he took several deep breaths and tried to reign in his suddenly conflicting emotions with a precise skill. To the best of his ability, he emptied his thoughts of anything he couldn't afford to think at the moment, war, his family, Ripred's death, and all of the lives he had ever taken, all in the attempt to focus on just one more and nothing except for Luxa and his love. Steadying himself, he finally looked over to Mareth.

"Is it time?"

"It is time when you deem it is time. The Viceroy will wait for when you have assured yourself you are ready."

Gregor nodded. "Then let's not keep him waiting any longer."

They left the chamber together, and were joined by Howard and Hazard and the company of guards. Luxa had already left, most likely escorted down to the battle position by her own battalion of bodyguards and protectors. It was all in the better with that fact, as Gregor wasn't totally distracted by that fact.

The guard troupe led him down the levels of the castle, out to the platforms that lowered them to the city streets below. As they went, Gregor noticed that the city was sparsely-occupied. Not completely empty, but there were nowhere close to as many people on the streets as there usually were and should have been. Which meant either they were safe in their homes or, more likely, already at the site of his victory or demise, anxious to see the fateful battle, not quite understanding of the reasons why it was taking place.

He was taken through the streets, winding the way down mostly wide ones, out through the districts until the houses become fewer and scarcer, until finally they left the occupied regions and ventured out towards the outer cliffs that led down to the far plains below.

Out where he could observe the open, Gregor saw where the site of the battle had been set up. On the very edge of a pointed ledge atop one of the tallest cliffs, the four torches Mareth had specified had been set up. Ropes were strung tightly between them, each about sixty or seventy feet long, marking a large square where the fighters would fight. Two of the edges came together to make a terminal vertex at the point where two cliff faces met, and sheer drop to certain death was presented off of each. Beyond the ropes there were citizens and commoners all waiting and shouting and pointing and trying to figure out why the duel was taking place at the same time they all waited anxiously for it. Gregor saw familiar faces amongst the audience, but not many of them friendly. He took it as a bad sign.

The guard halted as they arrived at the edge of the crowd, leaving only Mareth and Howard to escort Gregor onward, Hazard veering off, most likely to find and stand by Luxa. The crowd separated instantly as he walked in, and he was presented with a clear path towards the square. As he passed, the onlookers spoke to him, perhaps shouting encouragements or taunting jeers, but whichever or both it was he didn't listen to, concentrating on nothing but what he saw ahead. On the far side of his side of the square, the Viceroy stood, tall and elegant in fierce red armor, smirking silently as Gregor came on. Nothing but hatred pooled out of his gaze in return.

At the very edge of the square, York waited. When Gregor stopped before him, the giant man bent down and shouted into his ear over the din of the crowd, "The battle will begin when you enter the ring. It is to the death, Overlander, do not forget. I wish you good luck." The offer was genuine, Gregor saw in the man's eyes, and he returned the handshake he received with a firm thanks. At least someone he didn't know well thought he was telling the truth.

Howard followed his father with the same warmth, and even smiled at him as they shook. "You will not fail, my friend," was all he said, and then it was only Mareth behind.

But instead of a handshake this time, Mareth position himself right ahead of Gregor so that the Overlander was hidden from the Viceroy's view. Standing directly ahead so that he could speak only to Gregor, the general lowered his voice so that he was saying his words only loud enough so that Gregor alone would hear. "There is only one more thing. The status quo."

"What about it?" Gregor answered in the same lower voice.

"Right now, the Viceroy has it completely under his control."

"But what is it? What is the status quo here?"

"I do not know," Mareth answered truthfully. "But that is for you to discover. Find it out, and it will lead you to your victory. Find the status quo, whatever it happens to be under the Viceroy's command, and interrupt it. Interrupt the status quo, and you can change it in your favor. Do not lose it, and there is no possible way you can fail. You will know what this all means when you face it."

"I'm not comfortable taking your word for that."

"You will have to be. Good luck."

Mareth moved out of the way without even a handshake, and suddenly Gregor was standing directly in front of the square, facing the Viceroy, and the crowd had gone dead silent. Perhaps his hearing had shorted out, or his brain had blocked it out, but he was pretty sure every attendee had just decided to finally shut up, leaving Gregor staring coldly and angrily back at his opponent to the death.

He took a deep breath, and thought of his family, of Ripred, of Luxa, of love, and calmed his heartbeat in an instant to a perfect, relaxed tone. Perfectly in synch with his body, Gregor felt confidence wash slowly into his body. Feeling a sudden tug at his heart, he turned his head over to where it told him to look, and found his eyes resting on Luxa, just as he had known they would. Looking straight at nothing but her, Gregor blocked out everything except for her stare, her love, her pleading and hoping eyes.

And so, still staring towards her, he stepped into the square.


	39. 38: The Status Quo

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: laxgoal31, Castaway5, T.R. Miles, If I Had My Way –i would rule-, Robert, november21, Timballisto, Surreptitiously Anonymous, Sharingan Tobi, and zz1323.**

**Swords are drawn. Bum, Bum, Bum, Bummmmmmmmmmmmm! You will never see what I have coming… Chapter 38. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Bagels!**

**38**

**The Status Quo**

From what Luxa could see, Arthur's armor was much sturdier and thicker than Gregor's. While she didn't think there was a great difference in their strength, she knew from personal experience that the Viceroy could tote such a load with exceptional stamina for extended periods of time. Gregor didn't carry a shield, she could see, but Arthur was wearing one that looked like it would easily be able to cover his entire left side while he handled a standard broadsword with his right arm. Despite the one-hand grip Luxa imagined that he would have no trouble with his weapon.

Gregor pulled the scimitar from his sheath as he stepped into the square of the fight, gathering his feet below him as he took a breath and paced to the left to stand directly across from the Viceroy, who had placed himself between the far corner between cliff and rope. Gregor came to a perfect standstill when they were symmetrical in the square to each other. The crowd had grown eerily and uniformly silent, and now the only sounds that filled the air was the breathing of the surrounding audience and the two contestants. In the distance, the lights of the city had been dimmed especially low, as far as was possible, to prevent interference to this event, leaving only the four solid, standing torches for light sources.

The moment Gregor assumed his position the Viceroy raised his head and spoke up. "You come bearing no shield and wearing light armor and weapon. Your confidence is obvious, although more likely than not displaced."

"That remains to be seen," Gregor snapped back.

"For now. Give it a few moments, and I believe you will find yourself with your hands full of more than simply a small nuisance of a duel." As he spoke, he began to raise his broadsword until it was brandished at full length. Never once as it came up did Arthur give any indication that it was a burden or an effort to lift the gigantic tool, which Luxa was in the middle of guessing would have the average soldier gasping from a two-armed attempt of the same action.

Meanwhile, Gregor began to shuffle with soft and slow steps to his left, back around the crowd side of the square, never taking his eyes from the Viceroy. Across the way, Arthur did the same against the cliff side, seemingly aware of the edge but still getting very close to it as they began to circle each other. At the same time, Gregor spoke his quick response. "My hands or yours, in a minute, they'll both be full."

Without further preamble, Gregor lashed across the circle. It was probably a bad move, striking across a clear fifty feet of open grass with a surprise attack. Also, Luxa knew, and was sure Gregor did as well, it was always best to let your opponent make the first move of attack. The only explanation was that he had decided to ignore the training techniques or was simply trying to gauge the Viceroy's reaction as he ran towards the man.

Evidently, it was the second, as, when Gregor finally arrived at his target, he merely shot a quick glancing blow and then retreated swiftly out of the Viceroy's range. In his reaction, the Viceroy had done little beyond twist his shield slightly to the side so that he could deflect Gregor's attack. He hadn't moved the broadsword, and continued circling even after Gregor had stepped away and back into his own space. Otherwise, nothing changed, and their eyes never left the other.

It was obviously a duel of the masters. Only no one could tell which one was the master of the master.

Moving back into position, the two continued their methodic circling, each one ascertaining and judging the apparent and obvious weaknesses of the other, cataloging and readying all in the case that they were desired for imminent use. Neither knew exactly what the other was thinking, but that was part of the judgment factor which would prove key in the eventual unraveling of the fight. Luxa herself was keeping her eyes on the Viceroy's blade, ready to cry a warning in the event that he move too quick for anyone, save perhaps Gregor, to act.

Then the Viceroy broke the circle abruptly and rushed at Gregor.

Not totally surprised but relatively unawares, Gregor reacted by dodging what he could of the blow and directing the rest of the broadsword to his side as the two blades collided. Ducking a swing by the Viceroy's shield Gregor disentangled his blade from the mess and jumped away just in time to avoid another back swing.

Scurrying away, Gregor tried to right himself from the surprise and stumble his feet had launched him into. Before he could even try and get his own position back the Viceroy was on the offensive and on top of him, bringing his thick destroyed down upon Gregor's broken blade with force.

From what she could see of Gregor's scamper, the Overlander had only enough time and strength to swing his own sword up with a brisk counterblow, barely stopping the broadsword in its path before it struck down upon him. The blow didn't follow him, but the force behind him was enough to send Gregor off his feet backwards and rolling. Courtesy, probably, of his rager instincts, he was able to roll quickly back to his feet, but it was only just in time to dodge the Viceroy's next attack, leaping away once more from the strong steel of the man's blade.

It hadn't taken long for Luxa to realize that Gregor had met more than his match, but it was only just beginning to seem like it was sinking into Gregor himself. Jumping quickly away and finally relatively free of the Viceroy's strike range, he appeared to take a long minute just to take a breath, still on his toes as the Viceroy paced around and gave him the luxury of a moment.

"Surprised?" Arthur taunted as Gregor regained control over himself, his face passive and his voice impartial. "I must say, I did not expect this much of you. You should be proud of yourself. Ripred would be."

He took a short step closer, and Gregor lashed out with his scimitar. Arthur cleanly knocked it aside with the head of his shield and came back with another slash of his sword. Gregor ducked backwards from the swipe and stumbled again, but this time he went down as well. Almost twenty feet down from where Luxa stood watching, he careened into the ropes with flailing legs, knocking a torch over and sending screaming citizens away. The torch shot out as it hit the dirt, and instantly the small light level dropped even further. Luxa was just barely able to see Gregor hop quickly back to his feet and out of the way of the Viceroy's follow-up strike at the ground.

Gregor didn't attack when he was back around, though. He just circled away and waited, scrutinizing the Viceroy as he turned to face. Luxa realized that he was looking for a focal point where Arthur was weak, where he could be exploited, or perhaps a clue as to what Arthur's overall tactic was. Both were far unbeknownst to her, but just maybe Gregor could see them. Or was doing his best to.

Sweat was already building over Gregor's face, and both of their faces were red. The Viceroy had more breath, it appeared, though, and Gregor was clearly outmatched in strength. The Viceroy was also much quicker than you would assume by his side, but Gregor probably still had the advantage in that category. In pure swordplay, though, Arthur seemed to have the best. All Luxa could do to satisfy herself for the moment on that part was remember that Gregor was a rager, and hope that that would be good enough.

The Viceroy, grinning slightly, began to take a step forward, but before he had gotten far Gregor suddenly whipped to face him squarely and took a rabid hack at his side. Like before Arthur raised the shield to counteract, but this time Gregor swung with enough strength for Arthur to lose his grip on the protection. The heavy metal dropped from his hand with a great screech of impact and hit the ground rolling at their feet.

Whipping his sword quickly around to his other side, shifting quickly so that his back was twisting around against the Viceroy's front, Gregor deflected the answering blow from the broadsword, just as he kicked the shield an extra little bit, giving it enough solid momentum and inertia to carry it off towards the edge. As Gregor shot one more strike at Arthur before backing off the shield teetered perilously over the edge before finally falling cleanly off and away, far out of reach to be regained in the fight.

The two fighters separated, both breathing relatively heavy now and one in mild shock at suddenly having lost his instrument of defense. After a moment, though, Arthur's face changed from confusion to amusement and a cruel smirk covered his face. "Good. You are good."

"Trained by the best," Gregor snarled back.

"I happened to triumph over 'the best', as it so happens," Arthur retorted.

"Indeed," Gregor stated, surprising Luxa by not denying the fact. "So it would seem. I wonder, then, how it is that you were always afraid of 'the best' ever thereafter?"

"What is this fear you speak of?"

"Well, for one thing, you were always scared he would find out that it was you who abducted Luxa, and for another, you were too afraid you'd lose to take him out alone, and there wasn't a middleman good enough to do it for you."

"I _did not_ give the cutters Her Majesty!" Arthur hissed, eyes aflame with anger. The anger, though, wasn't exactly anger. It was more of hatred, and Luxa could see it growing by the minute.

"Oh, yeah, good. Lie for all of Regalia to hear, it'll just help me out----"

Crying out in apparent rage, the Viceroy lunged forward at Gregor. Suddenly caught in the corner at the point where the two cliff edges met, Luxa watched as Gregor quickly bat away two extremely fast swipes of Arthur's broadsword in pure desperation before half-recovering himself and knocking one aside out of skill. Nearing the edge and suddenly in very real danger of falling to his death and loss, Gregor ducked the Viceroy's next blow and quickly darted out to the right and away, tiptoeing perilously on the cliff edge as he did so. Arthur's swing kept going, though, and flew unintentionally through the second torch, which fell over the edge and extinguished itself on sharp impact with the ground far below. As Arthur righted himself on the ridge and Gregor did the same farther in, the only two torches that were left were the ones in the opposite corners of the cliff and crowd congregation points.

"Light's fading, Viceroy," Gregor sneered as he paced back into the open, fixing a displaced strap of his armor as he did so. "Hope it doesn't run out, 'cause it'll mean your end when it does."

"As before, your confidence is misplaced," Arthur growled as he turned to face his opponent again.

"You've lost a shield and your temper to me, Viceroy; I really think you should look over your words once or twice before they pop out of your mouth the next time. And I did all of that with half a sword." The taunts were clearly meant to antagonize Arthur into a charge, but instead Gregor suddenly launched himself forward in his own attack. Caught by surprise, Arthur swung the broadsword hard. Gregor tried to dodge it, but was pulled up short, allowing Arthur an escape route to his left beyond the reach of his sword. His attack a failure, Gregor jumped away before his position could be used against him and readied for a counterattack.

Luxa had begun to realize what Gregor was attempting. Clearly, Arthur had the upper hand in whatever fight you could classify, and Gregor was completely aware of that fact. In any battle, then, Gregor would have to find some advantage that Arthur would neither anticipate nor expect in truly any situation. Therefore, Gregor had to keep attacking without warning and in places and situations Arthur wouldn't take into account as plausible. In this way, Gregor had found a way to fight a fight that wasn't believed to be winnable. And he was, more or less, winning.

As she was making her assumptions, Arthur and Gregor rushed towards each other again at the exact same time. Arthur swung full down by Gregor's knees, in what Luxa would consider an unexpected move. Gregor, though, was evidently in on the unexpected, as he easily leaped through the air and let the sword sail easily below him. At the same time, he swung his scimitar at Arthur's head. Arthur, instead of ducking, though, brought his metal glove up to the blade and punched upwards on the flat side of the blade.

Knocked up and away from his face, the scimitar pulled Gregor with it as it tumbled away out of control and in to the dirt. Gregor landed in a rolling heap next to it, but had to scramble for a moment to regain it in his hands. Even as he went after it, Arthur left his momentum take him onward, until he skidded to a halt before one of the two remaining torches. Reaching up quickly, he snapped the bracket off a foot below the flame and heaved it at Gregor, using a turn as his basis of strength.

Gregor barely had time to swing his scimitar and deflect it, even as Luxa and several other citizens amongst the crowd cried out as the flame flew closer to him. Gripping Hazard's hand tightly, Luxa watched as he was able to launch it off and away from himself, out far over the edge of the cliff as it flew out into the darkness and away.

It didn't amount to much, but the act had served its purpose. As Gregor reeled around, barely keeping his feet with the effort of retaking his sword and deflecting the torch, Arthur rounded and dived back at him, taking an overhand swing as he did so. Losing his footing already, Gregor gave in and used the fact to his advantage: falling flat to the ground and twisting onto his back as he went, Gregor swung his scimitar up double-handed to stop the strike, then planted both feet squarely somewhere in the Viceroy's leg armor. Kicking upward hard, he launched the man over his head, rolling backwards himself and quickly regaining his feet. Stumbling forward a bit and dizzy in the back of his head, Gregor sidled himself around to observe the consequences of his tactic.

The Viceroy had fallen far short of Gregor's obvious goal, the cliff. He was climbing to his feet himself as Gregor turned to look, but he was much more composed in doing so, and appeared to be much more coordinated as he swung his sword around to his side with perfect control. Slowly, Luxa watched the two mortal enemies turning to face each other again. But neither attacked, and there was a short moment to catch a breath for them both.

Gregor was giving a small grimace with every breath, indicating bruised or broken ribs, and there was a slight trickle of blood from his mouth. His legs were shaking a slightly bit, but that was most likely only from the exertion of throwing Arthur over his shoulders with nothing but his thigh muscles. The Viceroy appeared to be in much the same shape, although he was slightly favoring his left arm and there were three light scratches on his forehead that were each oozing a dark shade of blood. Both of them, though, appeared far from incapacitated to Luxa.

And as she looked over them both, the Viceroy began to laugh. "Oh, what is this, Overlander? Two people fighting for pride and who believes they are right. Incredible, and totally ancient in the way of our people. Still, it astounds me; I cannot remember the last time I have had this much _fun_!"

Whirling around once more towards the near corner, Arthur lashed out quickly with his broadsword, cleanly severing the bracket of the last remaining torch, which was casting a very dim and gloomy light over the entire proceeding, and catching it with his unoccupied hand before it could hit the ground. Turning around once again to face Gregor, he had a great smile on his face, eyes staring deep into the flame he held in his hand, the only remaining light source to illuminate the entire fight.

"They tell me, Overlander, that you know how to use echolocation," the Viceroy said, and everything suddenly came in to perspective for Luxa, and she had to rapidly hold back a gasp. "However, I have found that hearing the dark and seeing in the dark are too very different things." Without even hesitating, the Viceroy dropped the light into the dirt, his eyes now resting squarely on Gregor's face. Grinning evilly, he raised his foot once and dropped in on top of the torch, at the same time speaking again.

"So, tell me, Overlander. Can you learn to see in the dark?"

The light went out, and the entire world for Luxa and the crowd was plunged into darkness. She felt her hand clamp down on Hazard's hard at the same time she felt him grip hers back, at the same time that frantic cries broke out in the crowd. Nobody moved, though, even as they couldn't see anything, except for the dim, distant glow of the frantically dimmed city lights, which couldn't cast enough glow at the distance they were at to make much of a difference. They were afraid to walk into the zone of battle, where they could now see nothing of the battle. Luxa realized with a start that the Viceroy could pull any tactics, cheating or not, in the dark and no one except for he would ever know it. Breath beat away by horror for Gregor, she was just about to cry out to him to run away when his voice broke out in the darkness.

"Wrong question, Viceroy."

The voice came from the position she had seen him in last, and it radiated nothing, perfectly impassive. It did not, however, sound concerned. Neither did the Viceroy's response, from quite a different position than he had been in before the darkness came. "Oh, it is, is it? Pray tell, Overlander, enlighten me as to what the _right_ question is."

The mutterings had died down from pure fear that those muttering would be struck down. Luxa could hear footsteps against the dirt inside the arena, but had no idea how to tell the difference between Gregor's and Arthur's, and so didn't know who's they were. All she had was a dim hope, and a growing dread that any moment now a fateful strike would come from the darkness and strike Gregor dead.

"That would be quite simple," Gregor replied, in response to the Viceroy's retort. "The _real_ question, the right one, the one that you should have asked in the very first place, is..."

A wreak of steel-on-steel screeched through the air.

"Can you?"


	40. 39: And Interrupting It

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: Castaway5, laxgoal31, november21, shadowblade546 (x2), ImagineKat, T.R. Miles, mmmlander (x3), and zz1323. mmmlander: I'm probably younger than you think I am :).**

**Et cetera. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound. If I disclaim this and nobody looks at it, is it really disclaimed?**

**39**

**...And Interrupting It**

The Viceroy's first mistake had been to lose his shield. It hadn't quite been intentional, but he could easily have avoided it, with a simple amount of care and refraining from the temptation of underestimation. Such a loss wasn't devastating, but just might be enough to turn the tables away from his supremely evident favor in the tidings of the battle.

The Viceroy's second mistake had been to douse the lights, and that spoke for itself.

Arthur's first strike in the dark had been aimed right for his head, but Gregor had blocked it easily, waiting until the last possible moment before swinging his sword in deflection. The shriek of the collision nearly deafened him, but it had exactly the proper effect on the Viceroy that he had been hoping before, both stopping and sending the man stumbling backwards at the exact same moment. The look of surprise that clouded Arthur's face for a moment told Gregor exactly what he had been hoping to know. Arthur was off-balance, and he had a stair to the high ground.

The cries of the bewildered onlookers disoriented him for a moment, but they died down almost instantly and he had his echolocation filed right off of his breathing. It took him only the second of the echoes' travel to tell him that the square had not been breached by bystanders, and that Arthur was still abiding by what few rules they had. The Viceroy himself had stumbled back several feet and was still trying to orient himself. Gregor could already see that he was facing as worthy an opponent in the dark as he had in the light, but also that Arthur had not expected the same from him. This, coupled with a suspicion that he just might be better at echolocation than the Viceroy, sparked a resolve and determination inside Gregor that would've made an entire army quiver.

He let the Viceroy recover, just to prolong the fight. Keeping in mind the possible but very slight scenario of Arthur simply pulling another brilliant ruse, Gregor circled back into the more open part of the square and turned to observe with his echoes while his opponent readied himself for the next confrontation. In the dark, senses heightened by the sensitive ricochets presented by echolocation, Gregor could scrutinize every little move and decide in an instant whether it was relevant or not. In this sense, Gregor could almost fight better in the dark then in the light, except for the obvious helping factors which eyes presented. Then again, in the background, every moment, he was forcibly aware of Luxa, now behind him, staring on with now confused _and_ horrified eyes. It added to distraction.

But that was something to be ignored. Right now.

Gregor closed his eyes deliberately, seeing if he could throw off the Viceroy by this simple action. In the dark, he wouldn't need them anyway. He watched through his ears as the Viceroy assumed a position much like his own, only mirrored on the opposite end of the square. The Viceroy's efforts at echolocation were thorough, though much more obvious than Gregor's, and Gregor could tell that his were more complete. He had the advantage, however slight it was.

So it was time to exploit weaknesses.

He charged at the moment he heard the Viceroy suck in a breath for added repercussions. It worked almost perfectly; he was nearly on top of the man by the time Arthur realized what he was doing, and their swords clashed together violently only a few inches above the Viceroy's nose. Gregor found himself shoved away almost instantly, corralling far off into the corner of the square. The Viceroy was stronger, making up for his less dominant traits, and Gregor used the shove to propel him farther backwards from Arthur as he came back with an instant backslash. It missed by far and he strode easily away as the Viceroy once more righted himself parallel.

"The darkness is vast, is it not, Viceroy?" Gregor taunted, believing himself to finally have a significant advantage and affording a little mocking. "A great big void where it's very easy to just disappear."

"Or fall off the edge of a cliff, Overlander." In a chance that was in no way a coincidence, Gregor stood at the edge of the cliff. It had been quite intentional, in the case that the Viceroy charged to knock him off. Gregor was mildly confident that he could use his opponent's inertia against him in this case, though, and launch Arthur off of the ledge instead. He almost welcomed the opportunity.

"But who's to know what happens in the dark," Gregor replied, moving away from the cliff out of doubt to his previous plan, circling as the Viceroy did the same on the other side. "Things can just pop out of nowhere and no one would ever know. Perhaps that's why we use light, because then things can only rarely sneak up upon us. As opposed to this, when we have no idea what's coming."

"On the contrary, I enjoy this unknowing," the Viceroy said. "It presents a certain state of mystery which is just enough to fuel us to propel onward."

He closed the circle right then, swinging around in a broad stroke. Gregor swung swiftly to block, but the force of Arthur's swing was so much that his sword was knocked right back at him. He was thrown backward by the shot, but managed to sink a boot into the dirt as he went. Skidding to an instant halt, he ducked right to the ground, letting Arthur and his momentum carry themselves onward over and past him, even as he pushed backwards and regained his feet in the opposite direction, momentarily safe as Arthur slid to a stop and turned himself around.

Catching his breath for a moment, reorganizing himself with the knowledge of the square and Arthur's position, Gregor continued the previous conversation. "Yet why do people throw themselves into the mystery? Why would you put yourself in danger by venturing away from the light?"

"Curiosity," Arthur answered, in a strong voice that sounded as if it were screaming obviousness. They resumed their circle in the opposite direction, now clockwise, of before. "Humans are always wondering what is there, and will not cease to try and find out until they have done so or as much as they can possibly do to do so. That is the way we live, the way we mark our survival. To learn more."

Gregor began to walk inward ever so slightly, beginning to close the circle as they came closer and closer. "Understandable. But I still never cease to wonder why we leave everything we hold dear, everything we ever wanted, to pursue something we don't know and truly have no idea if we'll ever even find it."

They lashed out at the exact same moment, once across the small space of circle that they hadn't already trekked. The broadsword jarred Gregor's arm as the two blades connected, but he still managed to hold on and bring it around for another strike. This time, breaking quickly through the Viceroy's defenses, he slashed the broadsword aside with a wrist flick and hacked at his chest. Arthur jumped back, and Gregor missed the torso, but he felt the scimitar dig slightly into the flesh of Arthur's arm, and was rewarded with a slight cry of pain from his opponent. His echolocation worked perfectly for him as well, as he sensed the broadsword coming back once more long before it actually did. He skimmed it off to the side with an easy swing, and jumped back once more from harm's way as Arthur lurched backward, favoring his right, injured arm visibly.

Listening intently to Arthur's gasps of pain, Gregor wiped his brow free of sweat once and kept talking. "This is probably why people are always afraid of the dark. They are afraid of what they will lose when it comes to them, what they'll get lost in, because they cannot see their way out, because they will be gone in all essence except soul and touch."

"No one is afraid of the dark," Arthur growled back. "They are afraid of what lies in the dark."

"As well they should be. Scary things lie where light reaches not. You, of all people, dear Viceroy, should be aware of this fact, being one who dwells in places where the light never touches."

"Unlike yourself, Overlander," the Viceroy replied. "You live in the light above, do you not? Tell us then, if you speak this way, why you venture down into the dark where supposedly there lies all danger if you could live quite peacefully in the lightness above?"

"Because my heart called me here." Gregor was conscious of every move as they spoke, as the Viceroy rubbed his left wrist and grimaced from his injured arm. Attacks could be hidden inside any casual gesture, and he was cataloging each one in the case that it became such an assault. "Maybe if you were to survive this you would eventually find something that called you like I've been called. Too bad you won't."

He lunged, the Viceroy dodged, and Gregor felt a quick, sharp pain in his leg. Holding back a cry of pain to be replaced with nothing but a gasp, Gregor still went toppling into the dirt. He probably rolled for a good while, but he had no sense of anything except the excruciating pain now erupting through his leg. He wasn't aware he was grasping it with terrible force, adding to the agony, until he was sure he was stopped, and could sense through the most incoherent shards of pain that were inhibiting his echolocation the actual wound. All he saw through his ears were two hands clutching a knee, blood seeping through the cracks.

Thinking he had gone into shock, Gregor did an agonizing double take. There was no way a glancing blow such as the one he appeared to have sustained could render so much damage to his body and mind. He was still staring into the darkness at what he thought was blood, while listening to the frantic whispers suddenly present around, when he found one word to answer his confusion.

_Poison_.

The Viceroy's broadsword was lined with poison. That was all Gregor could come up with. On contact, the poison had shot right into his bloodstream, and was now most likely doing its best to render his leg inoperable beneath him. It was a dirty trick, probably an illegal one, too. Now, though, it was too late for him to do anything for it. His scimitar had left his hand, probably discarded in the dirt somewhere, out of his reach. Even if it were close enough for him to grasp, he didn't know if he could call upon his hand to pick it up before his leg exploded. His echolocation was failing him; he had no idea where the Viceroy was, or where he was in relation to the crowd or the cliff. He knew nothing except for the poisoned pain.

Somewhere beyond his agony, he just caught snatches of the sound of boots on dirt. Just behind his back, from where he lay curled over his knee in a horrible grimace, the Viceroy slowly planted both feet and crouched down, resting the flat edge of his broadsword on Gregor's shoulder. It was silent for a moment, as Arthur no doubt quickly observed Gregor and his condition. Then the Viceroy nudged Gregor lightly with a hand and spoke, in a tiny whisper right into his ear. "Amazing, isn't it, Overlander? How you can have so much skill and yet seem to be taken out by just a chance swing? You can be invincible ninety-nine times out of a hundred, but if that one of a hundred is big enough, eventually you will fall to it.

"Do you understand pain?" Arthur's voice had become even more than a whisper, and Gregor would have hated it like nothing else, had he the attention span to hate it in relation to the pain he was already experiencing. "_This_ is what I have gone through, and what you unravel with your foolishness. I am sorry for your fate, but it is the way the river flows in the Underland."

Gregor felt the Viceroy stand up, take a few steps back. Any moment he would feel the broadsword in his side, striking him down forever, leaving everything he had worked so hard to complete, what Ripred had died for, what he had killed and slaughtered for, unfinished. And then Luxa would be in the eternal hands of the Viceroy, the tainted but still powerful king, and all his desperations would fail. His family would die hungry and cold in New York City, the cutters would rule the Underland, everything he had ever known would end in evil...

Because he couldn't get the hell off the ground.

For once in his life, he did what he hadn't been able to do in the Overland, without Luxa, he hadn't been able to do in the Underland, with Luxa, and had never been able to accomplish with all of Ripred's teaching and Vikus' advice. The one thing he had tried and tried but failed to do, until this point in time. From inside his mind, he summoned the item he had struggled to control, and screamed into his caged conscious to let it free: his rager soul, his rager self, released to the world to save what it usually sought to destroy.

He lost control in an instant, the combination of reflex and adrenaline utterly obliterating any sense of pain his body had just been put through. His hands snapped away from his leg, and his eyes shot open, searching for anything to destroy, even in the dark. Echolocation locked in super-sensitivity mode at that instant, and within milliseconds he knew where everything even in the remote area of the square battlefield was. His blood-soaked hand shot out of its own accord and seized his scimitar from the ground two feet away, and automatically he began to roll to his side to leap back to his feet, back into the fight he could not lose.

As the entire change took over, Gregor was aware of the Viceroy almost five feet away, looking down as he prepared the terminal slash of his broadsword. As he began to enter his rager senses, Arthur's face seized in confusion, then quick anxiety, then anger and franticness. As he rolled to the side, the Viceroy took both hands to his weapon and swung downward with all the strength he had. Gregor rolled right beneath the blade and leaped into the air just as it shot past his ear.

Up and away from Arthur, spinning to face the Viceroy as he recovered, Gregor circled under the full influence of his rager senses, unleashed and predatory. Inside his mind, he fought for a level of control that he had never known before, up to the point where he assumed he could resume management of his mind again at will, but kept his reflex running full power. As he watched Arthur stumble in surprise and round on him with anger and fear compounded as one in his eyes, Gregor couldn't help but feel a great surge of confidence and pride, gratitude for what he was. Still, the poison was not gone, and it would eventually destroy his leg from the inside out. His work had to be fast.

"Surprised?" he panted out, fighting for control of memory and his own voice.

The Viceroy didn't answer, only charged forward fiercely in the dark. Gregor deflected the initial glancing blow with what could almost be described as playfulness, then followed up quickly with his own stroke, which would have hacked Arthur in two had he not dropped to the ground at that precise moment. From the dirt, the Viceroy hacked at Gregor's feet. The Overlander leapt easily over the blow and away from him, ready to stride back in at the first opening of weakness.

Arthur jumped back to his feet in a single motion and rounded so that he was facing Gregor, all feigning and arrogance gone from his face. He held his broadsword with a double-handed grip, at the ready and not wavering with fatigue in the slightest. The wound on his arm still dripped blood, but it appeared he was ignoring the pain very well. Beneath his chestplate his lungs were pumping through air faster than some would be able to manage, but the wind passing through him was the only sign that he was tiring in any way.

"How's the playing field now, eh?" Gregor taunted, knowing full well that his leg might implode on itself in any given moment, depending on how potent and the type of poison it was. "A little bit closer?"

"The playing field is even, Overlander," the Viceroy sneered. "But _I_ have the better flier for the game."

He rushed forward, swinging his weapon left and right in preparation as he did so. He swung in a strong over cut as he reached Gregor, and his instincts flew to deflect with so much force that sparks actually flew from the two blades as they met in midair. For a very brief moment, the entire crowd and surrounding area was lit by the collision, but the next it was dark again, and they still went on. Arthur swung again with less force and Gregor countered equally, making a lesser strike in the darkness. Both veered off then, Arthur obviously trying to calculate his next move and Gregor just to rummage for a makeshift plan.

As they retreated to their opposite corners of the room, though, they both paused to catch their breath, and Arthur spoke as he did so. "So now, Overlander, what do you to me? I would rank you almost to Ripred, who was the most skilled fighter I have ever encountered, yet still I beat him. We fight in the pitch darkness. You have attributes; I have skills. I wonder, who is it who will prevail when we are all done?"

Still contemplating a reply, Gregor felt his toe strike up against the dampened torch. He ignored it for a moment, but then did a double take as he thought and considered, and then finally instigated a certain amount of control to his rager side. Bending over, he reached down and picked up the broken bracket, holding it up to feel if the embers and oil were still warm in their darkness. They were.

"You seem to be correct, Viceroy," he called across the void. "Therefore, I believe it is time that we shed some light on the situation." Throwing himself into rager strength again, Gregor swung the torch with all his might across the ground. The friction sputtered it once and then suddenly it flew aflame again, even more intense than before, blazing the square in incredible brightness after so long a dark. Stepping back against the edge of the square, he shoved the torch into the hands of a guard soldier, before turning his attention fully back on the Viceroy, who stood mouth agape and still panting for his breath.

"Now we can end this."


	41. 40: Taken

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: T.R. Miles, Castaway5, laxgoal31, Surreptitiously Anonymous, co1113, wwlego, mmmlander (x2), november21, godzilla man360, and Darkrider013.**

**Nobody saw this coming. Nobody.**

**Disclaimer: Brains, people. Use, don't eat.**

**40**

**Taken**

The Viceroy, beyond slight surprise, gave little indication that he had been faze in the slightest by something as meager as the light, but Gregor saw it come as his own great advantage. They were both wounded, but he had the better powers to ignore the pain.

And he was just in the mood to use them.

The Viceroy was, as it happened, forced into blinking as the sudden light was sprung from darkness, and became hindered by the brightness for a short moment. Gregor took it as the first opportunity to attack in an increased element, and shot forward like a fierce dart.

His opponent recovered as he was in midair swinging for the blow. Their swords connected, but seemed to dance against each other very quickly for a few moments before they separated again. Dangerously close to the audience beyond the still stable ropes, who were, themselves, blinking before the light, Gregor tried to jump away as the Viceroy fought back with equal ferocity without hesitation. Dodging an upswing and having a return volley blocked, the Overlander instantly tried to move the fight out into the open, while keeping away from the danger of the cliff ledge.

In a series of quick, constant swings, their blades barely got a foot apart as they repeatedly hacked with all their might at each other. Every sensory nerve in Gregor's body was guiding his reactions to the swift swings, and he would have been totally out of his element if it weren't for his rager side. With each slash that got closer to pricking his body in any which location, however, Gregor felt a confidence growing inside of him that he suddenly felt could win him the battle on its own, and even as the shots inched even nearer to his skin he began to realize that they would never actually touch him.

After one particularly unpredictable and out-of-control swing by the Viceroy, Gregor completely ducked beneath the blow and stopped in his tracks, swinging directly forward again at Arthur's legs. With exceptional strength, Arthur leaped once more over the sword, only this time he went right over Gregor's halted position, striking downward as he did so. Instead of trying to block the attack, Gregor rushed out beneath him, into the area he had only a moment before been occupying. Even still, the broadsword hacked off a small shred of his back armor as he went, barely missing sinking beneath the protection and into his skin.

He stepped away, walking at a running pace, gaining a little ground and breathing room, but not completely detaching himself from the battle. Arthur had similar thoughts, immediately charging back and striking without hesitation back at him. Gregor did a quick chest-across swipe to protect his body, before spinning and hacking back at Arthur. The Viceroy jumped back from the swing before it could cause damage, though, and it passed without causing harm through midair on its way back to Gregor's control, as he danced around on the balls of his feet, visibly taunting Arthur to make the next move of the battle.

Instead, they both simply crouched there for a moment, holding their swords double-handedly, facing each other, arched backs, bent knees, uneasy glares, wary eyes, each waiting for the other to slash first, perhaps presenting an opening even in the defense of themselves. For a long number of seconds, during which Gregor began to feel his poisoned leg begin to shake slightly beneath him, they stood at a strange stalemate, before Arthur finally lost his patience and spoke up. "What are you waiting for, Overlander? You obviously believe yourself capable of destroying me. I suggest you hurry up and do so."

"Oh, but the glory for me would be so much better if you were to attack me first, wouldn't it, Viceroy? Being able to defend myself _and_ defeat you simultaneously? The ultimate obstacle. Doesn't that sound more heroic? Courageous?"

As they had done so many times before in their duel, Gregor and the Viceroy abruptly charged at each other at the exact same moment. Raising their swords back behind their head, they swung at each other quickly with overhand strokes, meeting violently somewhere around eye level, before disengaging with an equal swiftness and back-slashing for their blades to come in contact once more behind both of their backs. Swinging around in perfect synchronization, they executed a quick number of relatively common hacks before Gregor parried a final one and made a thrust at the Viceroy's chest. The only way Arthur survived, surprised by such a quick maneuver, was by backpedaling so fast that he fell into a backwards somersault as he went. Rushing after his opponent, Gregor continued the thrust all the way into the ground that Arthur rolled over, missing by less than inches as the Viceroy launched himself back onto his unsteady feet. Breaking off his pursuit, Gregor turned to round the battlefield as they once more stood at equality.

Sweat was pouring, muscles were beginning to ache and soar, even through his rager immunities, and even his brain was beginning to get slightly dizzy from mild oxygen deprivation. Even still, though, Gregor was sure that he had never been closer to achieving victory over the Viceroy as at these few coming moments. In this way, he forced his breath to be calm and composed, while still rapid, as he observed the Viceroy circle once again around, seeming to breath and sweat even harder than Gregor was. He wondered with interest how the broadsword's weight was tolling on Arthur's arm at the moment.

"There's still time to surrender, Viceroy," Gregor said, allowing the Viceroy to pass behind him and out of his sight: he still had the man closely mapped with echolocation. "I promise you I'll let you live. Mostly."

"I think not, Overlander. I still believe you to be over confident and into the water far above your neck. All it is yet to do is push you in farther so you drown before you realized what's happened. And, believe me, that is more than likely a very significant scenario of which could come."

"Well, Arthur," Gregor replied, turning to face as his opponent raised the broadsword high, preparing for a strike, "I would also have to say that, right now, with what I seem to be able to do, it's a scenario of which could but won't come. Feel free to disagree, though, I really want to drive this sword through your chest right now."

"Likewise, my skilled adversary."

They clashed. Gregor tried to duck backwards from a strike even as he swung himself, and felt the very tip of the long broadsword just catch the thinnest skin of his face. Deep enough to draw blood but not to hurt or effect him significantly, Gregor launched on, recovering from his sudden mis-swing and adjusting to correct. Parrying three straight swings from Arthur, he tried and failed twice to jump onto the offensive and was forced to retreat back into the deeper corners of the square, choosing somewhat wisely for the one that rested between the two ropes behind which the crowd stood.

Arthur followed, though, and Gregor had to abandon his plan before he was trapped. Halting and trying to stop the Viceroy's advance, Gregor made a quick swing and twist of his sword to prevent Arthur from getting any closer. All it did, though, was come around to lock their swords before them both, the two of them abruptly in a battle of strength, Gregor's rager ability versus Arthur's natural build. For a long moment, it was nothing except their loud groaning and growling as they tried to force their blades toward the other, one gaining a slight advantage until the other quickly forced it back.

In the middle of their muscle contest, Arthur succeeded in growling out a few tense, quiet words. "You... will... not stop... me. I have come... far too far... to... let someone... like you take... this from... _me_!"

With a great deal of force and a great cry of exertion, Arthur suddenly switched the direction of his efforts, and used all of his might to force their locked swords upward. Pulled off balance and towards the Viceroy by the unexpected tactic, Gregor was thrown away as the Viceroy spun quickly around and unlocked their conflicting blades. Barely avoiding another repeated slice, Gregor rolled once through the dirt before hopping back up to his feet, nearly taking another step and teetering over the edge of the cliff again. Before he could be backed up against the ledge of rock, Gregor ran around until he was once more in a position to defend and perhaps attack from. He didn't have enough time to choose which one he would do, however, before Arthur relentlessly rushed.

The Viceroy, obviously calculating tactics he had not yet tried against Gregor, tried to charge with a thrust, jousting style, this time, only to be slashed aside by Gregor's answering scimitar. Unable to come back with a counterstrike, Gregor danced back, into the main portion of the remaining torch's light spread, and waited for the Viceroy to come back with more. When the man did, though, Gregor changed his approach and immediately stepped forward with slashes of his own weapon, advancing and striking with only forward advances. Very quickly, Arthur found himself retreating as opposed to moving ahead, parrying blows coming quicker than was close to humanly possible with a stricken and death expression on his face. They remained locked for another moment before he sideswiped an unwise slash and aimed another thrust at Gregor's stomach. The Overlander tried to recover, jumping the lower half of his body away while keeping his shoulders stationary and still slashing. As before, he was able to come back and deflect the slash, but not before it had sunk somewhere close to an inch deep into his armor. He couldn't be sure exactly how much damage it may have caused, but he was sure, for the moment, that it wouldn't halt his ability to fight. At least not when he had so much adrenaline and rager instincts rushing through his veins to keep him going.

They jumped back together almost instantly, still exchanging blows probably faster than the onlookers could sanely follow. As they did so, though, Arthur chuckled slightly and spoke. "It matters not that you would be to prevail, Overlander. Nothing would change."

"A hell of a lot would change," Gregor snarled back, only half paying attention to the words that were inadvertently finding their way out of his mouth, too busy defending and attacking and calculating to pay extreme attention to their conversation. In reality, it would have probably been wiser to hold his tongue altogether, but he persisted nevertheless. "And nothing, no matter how you say it, will convince me to change my mind about that fact."

"Too bad," the Viceroy retorted. "I rather enjoy it when my opponents realize the implications of the fight while it is still going on. Such distractions usually help me to _victory_!"

On the final word, he broke off instantly from his previously obvious slash and swung instead at Gregor's suddenly unprotected left thigh. Gregor changed instantly to counter, past the distraction already. As he moved to block, though, the Viceroy changed target perfectly mid-swing, now swinging right for his head. Somehow, Gregor able to force his scimitar upward to block this slash as well, but only to knock it off to the side. While he was still recovering, Arthur spun around rapidly and swung once again at his left flank, another attack Gregor barely had time to counter. As he did, though, his scimitar was knocked out of his hand, and sent flying ten feet away, where it struck the ground and stuck out, rigid as a board.

Out of his reach. As the Viceroy reared up for the killing swing.

Reacting totally out of instinct, Gregor dived for the wide gap between the Viceroy's legs, just as the man brought his sword down to meet still-empty air. As he did so, he punched his fist upward as hard as he could, aiming for where it would hurt Arthur the most. Sailing through the opening, safe from the sword, Gregor heard his fist make contact in many forms; heard the satisfying sound of collision on the metal armor Arthur wore there, the sickening crunch as at least a few of his knuckles completely shattered, the gasp and muffled cry of pain from the Viceroy himself, as even the dampened blast hit home.

Arthur stumbled, nearly dropping his broadsword as he tripped forward in the dust. Gregor landed in the dirt himself, pain screaming from his knuckles. Ignoring it completely, though, he scrambled back to his feet, rushed around, missing the Viceroy's rabid swing as he did so, and wrenched his scimitar from the ground with his relatively undamaged hand. Spinning around to face the Viceroy, he barely had time to see the anger in the man's eyes before the attack came again. But, this time, there was something else, too. Pain. From his still sore, still vulnerable injury.

Which was an advantage.

And on the very first swing the hindered Viceroy sent his direction, completely expecting it to be blocked by Gregor, the Overlander brought his arm far back and let the broadsword sail uncontrollably past him. With all of his leg strength, then, before Arthur could recover, Gregor kicked his legs out from beneath him, toppling him to the dirt. The broadsword flew uncontrollably from Arthur's hand as he hit the dust hard. Rushing after his adversary, who had slammed painfully and was trying to clamber for his fallen weapon, Gregor stepped with his boot onto the outstretched hand and kicked the sword away and away with the other one. As Arthur's next pained cry flew into the air, the sword twisted away and away and...

Fell off the ledge of the cliff. Down into the deep.

And Gregor towered once more over the cowering Viceroy, suddenly faced with a sword to his throat.

It was over.

It would have been so simple. The tip of the blade was resting right against Arthur's throat. All it would have taken was a little tiny poke and he would be gone, away from life, away from Luxa, away from anyone who might ever do living harm again, and it would all be over. He would be the Warrior, the hero of the Underland, he would have Luxa, she would be safe, and nothing would ever threaten them again. All would be solved. All would be safe.

But he couldn't do it.

He couldn't take the Viceroy's life, as he lay unarmed beneath him, sprawled and realistically in agonizing pain, for once not putting on an acting show as he stared up at Gregor with eyes that were, for once, scared. There, facing down his nemesis, his most hated enemy, the one person in the world he would love nothing more than to be rid of, Gregor found himself shaking his head, refusing to kill the man who had taken so much from him. And he was completely ashamed and terrified by the fact.

"Why not?" the Viceroy taunted from below, staring him straight down, defiance now creeping into his gaze. "Prove yourself the better. Take the life of evil. It is only that far away. I know you have done worse things in your life. No effort. No consequence. Just a little blood, and you will win."

His lips curling in contempt, Gregor kept shaking his head. Whispering, he grudgingly made a reply. "I will not be evil. I will not take your life, to pay for your crimes. I will not destroy you while you have no weapon. I will not become like you, and you will not turn me."

"What does it matter, Gregor?" the Viceroy whispered back, equally quiet. The use of his first name, to his knowledge the first time Arthur had ever used it, did not go unnoticed. "You said it yourself. The situation is doomed, no matter what happens. Whether you take my life or not, you spoke the truth. I alienated the cutters, I went back against my word. The cutters listen to few feelings, but one of them is honor. Do you know what they will do to punish the human race for my betrayal? They will come in legions, in armies, in entire _populations_. They will eradicate you. What will it matter when they do? You have nothing to lead them with. Why leave me alive to witness my victory? The end will come, and you will all die, whether I be with you then or now."

"Leave here," Gregor hissed. "I'll have a battalion walk you out. If you ever return to human territories of the Underland _ever again_, I don't care under which situations it will be, I will _boil_ you alive and then throw you into a volcano. And if you survive that, then I think I just might let you suffer until you meet your end. Never return, and you will live. Return, and I will show you exactly what die is."

Very slowly, making sure that the Viceroy's injuries were already too much for him to put up an adequate fight, Gregor backed off. Removing the scimitar from the man's throat, he back-stepped for several paces, until he was sure that the Viceroy wouldn't be attacking him. Even as he did so, Arthur stared him down for a last moment, and, surprising both of them, nodded his defeat, acknowledging Gregor. The action was not received warmly, but Gregor bowed slightly once before turning around and starting his own walk back to the crowd in his victory.

They hadn't made a sound throughout the whole exchange with the Viceroy, apart from a few surprised gasps when the man went down, all waiting for Gregor to finish the man off. Now, though, as he walked back towards them, he heard many of the audience let out gasps of relief and a few scattered cheers. Mareth and Howard were both looking at him with surprise but not unhappiness, and Vikus was raising an eyebrow in astonishment. Gregor walked towards Mareth, but he looked eternally at Luxa. She was staring at him with something like wonder, but her eyes were screaming gratitude and glee. Almost, _almost_, Gregor was tempted to smile at her. As it was, a slightly prided grimace came from him, which was as close as he had come to the gesture in five years. It conveyed a lot more than it appeared to. Finally, lastly, Gregor locked eyes for a moment with Hazard, and saw the boy returning the stare with pure horror. Hazard had wanted the Viceroy's death almost as much as he had, but the young boy still couldn't understand why Gregor had spared the man's life. Gregor could only stare sympathetically in the boy's direction for a brief moment, trying to send his feelings of sorrow and regret but acceptance through to the young man. Hazard, though, didn't appear to understand in the slightest, and turned his gaze hatefully onto the Viceroy behind Gregor. Gregor, unsure of how he could make the boy feel any better, just turned away and kept walking towards Mareth.

He realized a second too late exactly what Hazard was about to do.

Hazard reached beside him, where a guard lazily stood, and tore the sword from the man's sheath. Before Luxa, beside him, could react, the boy had climbed over the rope and begun to charge at the Viceroy, screaming a makeshift war cry as he went. Gregor turned and lunged to stop him, even as Luxa, Howard, and Vikus all screamed, "NO!" at the exact same time.

In despair, Gregor watched as his rager-powered lunge came up over a foot short, and felt every little bit of pain as he crashed into the ground, and could only look up as Hazard rushed on at Arthur, who had only just climbed painfully back to his feet, and who now stared at the rushing child with bemusement.

Before anyone could leap out from behind the railings, or Gregor could rush after the boy, he had bravely but foolishly swung the sword, of which he had next to no idea how to use, at the Viceroy. Arthur, with barely and effort, and through all his pain, reached out with a gauntlet and caught the sword hilt. He quickly wrenched the weapon away from Hazard and pushed the boy backwards, where the Halflander stumbled but managed to stay on his feet.

Which actually turned out to be his downfall. Because just as Gregor launched himself back to his feet to rush to the rescue, Arthur reared back the sword with a strong arm. And thrust the sword.

Right. Through. Hazard's. Heart.


	42. 41: Live the River, Die the Sky

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: laxgoal31, Castaway5, godzilla man360, Fitz Marksicle, Citizen of Fantasy at Heart, Timballisto, november21, Darkrider013, ImagineKat, T.R. Miles, operaghost517, Robert, Chase, Weezalicious, and KBXXROX.**

**Angst. Pure angst. I would say enjoy, but I think I'll just say Endure.**

**Disclaimer: Hey, is your refrigerator running? (Clever distraction!)**

**41**

**Live the River, Die the Sky**

He saw nothing except for Arthur's face.

He didn't see the sword pass through Hazard, didn't hear Luxa scream or Hazard gasp, didn't register as the blade was retracted, gleaming with blood, and the young boy crumpled to the ground with a big, wide, gaping hole in his chest. He didn't see, hear, smell, or even think as the agonizingly slow seconds passed. All he saw, all he smelled, all he felt, was the light his brain was transmitting through his eyes that showed him Arthur's face; which was twisted in pure contempt and disgust.

He didn't remember which hand his sword had been in, or if he had returned it to his sheath. As he rushed forward, again, though, without hesitation, he found the scimitar in his hand and brandished for a hard strike, with no remembrance of how it got there and not caring either. It didn't matter, as long as it would pass through the Viceroy within precisely twelve seconds.

The Viceroy looked up as he charged forward, screaming something he wasn't quite sure was actually coming out. Their eyes locked as he neared, and Arthur's shown with something like liquid evil. Gregor felt nothing except hatred and pain, and rushed with no resolve to hold back. As he raised his scimitar for the first strike in the easy battle against Arthur's now-weak blade, his rager senses were let free into his mind, without control established in the slightest.

The first swing would have shattered the Viceroy's blade had it been stationary. Instead, with the weak backswing that Arthur mustered in defense only prevented a quick death. Instead, Gregor's scimitar, cleaved the blade in half over halfway down its length, splitting it like wood. The Viceroy, already weak and caught off guard, nearly lost the grip on the weapon as he stumbled backwards from the blast. Before he could recover quick enough, Gregor hacked again sidelong at the sword blade, and one of the two remaining sprouts of steel snapped off, flying away into the dirt.

The Viceroy stumbled away again, now holding little more than a stick, and was suddenly little more than steps away from the deep drop to a dark abyss below. Seeing this, he tried to right his position by climbing around Gregor. To counter it, though Gregor flung his blade with all of his might at the sword in the opposite direction. The man was almost thrown off his feet backwards from the force, and the entire sword he held was ripped from his hand with the swing, leaving him utterly defenseless on the ledge which would lead to his certain death.

Gregor reared up with a strong grasp for the thrust that would end the Viceroy's life, and lead them all from a dark time of destruction, rid them all of an evil, a killer, a _murderer_. He didn't hesitate to deliver the killing blow, and his sword shot out without barely any thought.

Except, at that precise moment, Arthur smirked an evil grin, threw his arms out to all sides, and let himself drop off of the side of the cliff, leaving Gregor's sword to strike at nothing except thin, empty air.

Gregor stepped quickly up to the edge, anxious to watch Arthur plummet and be broken by the ground with his own eyes. He watched the man topple through midair, without a single cry, as he fell and got closer and closer to the ground, whose hard stone would kill him instantly, devoid of too much pain. Nothing but satisfaction filled Gregor's heart as he watched Arthur tumble to his destruction----

Until Equinox swooped out from nowhere and caught the man on his back.

Horror and disbelief replacing the victory in Gregor's heart, he almost suffered a stroke and fell over the ledge himself at that very moment. He watched with dismay as the bat leveled out the plummet he had launched into to catch Arthur, then swivel up away from running into the rest of the cliff edge, and finally string out for a straight, high flight out into the open, disappearing into the major darkness that led all the way into the tunnel of the cutters, into freedom.

Gregor whipped around and plunged through the crowd, most of whom had climbed in to the square somewhere between Hazard's stabbing and Arthur's jump. He didn't pay attention to whom he inadvertently ran over or shoved aside as he searched frantically and quickly for Howard. With the bodies now blocking the sole light, it was almost impossible to find the young doctor, but finally Gregor found the man lurking over Luxa's shoulder. He didn't stop to see what Luxa was lurking over, only ripped his overcoat suddenly out of Howard's hands.

Reaching deep into his pocket, he seized a hold of his gun and automatically clicked off the safety as he rushed back for the edge again, throwing the great coat aside as he did so. He skidded to a halt perilously at the cliff, already stiffening himself and begging for the light he could see to hold true. Looking out, reaching out with quick clicks, he plotted all the trajectory for the flight as Equinox got farther away, Arthur situating himself on the bat's back. He waited a moment for his hand to steady, and then aimed at Arthur's head. Without wavering once from his form, without a sound from the surrounding audience, Gregor fired a single bullet into the air.

For anyone else, it would have been an amazing shot.

For Gregor, though, it was nothing except a horrible miss. He tracked the bullet in its flight as he went and realized too late that he had aimed low. The shard of metal sailed cleanly, splitting the atmosphere around, spinning as it took its course, left of Arthur's back, through the gap between his arm and side----

-----and hit Equinox square in the back of the head.

By the weak light that was usable, Gregor watched the bat drop instantly from flight, most likely already dead, impaled as he was. Momentum carried the corpse forward, the Viceroy frantically trying to keep his hold on Equinox' fur at the abruptness of the fall. They moved on and on through the air as Equinox' limp wings flailed in the wind and Arthur flailed for control on his back. They came crashing hard to the ground in the exact opening of the cave mouth deeper into the Underland, falling out of sight into the shadows just as their movement started to slow, crippled and lifeless.

Gregor's arm was still outstretched with the shot, now shaking with so much exertion and strain. The crowd, standing around, had mostly been able to see exactly what he had done and exactly what had happened. Many of them shrieked with the gunshot, but all had recovered to see Equinox drop from the air. Uneasily, gradually, they became relieved and a few even gave small cheers. Gregor, though, was no longer listening to them, and the applauds passed right through him, ignoring them as he thought.

Then, shocking every single person there, he opened his mouth to the sky and screamed with all his might.

Just as the people jumped away in alarm, he cut off the cry, and closed his eyes to the outside world. He willed himself to ignore everything except the sound waves of his shriek flying into the distance, the ones that diffracted as they finally hit the cave mouth where Equinox had landed, and rebounded, reflected to start coming back at him, bringing with them a message and map of the world in the dark...

He heard the weak shape of the massive flier, lying lifeless, crippled and dead, distorted and contorted in the dust, forgotten and gone from everything he had ever known, by a missing bullet to the very back of his head...

And, even as the echoes passed, he sensed the other shape, the one faintly resembling a human male, climb very painfully to his feet. Limping and grimacing clearly even through the echo's distance, the figure slowly began to shuffle away from the body of his fallen comrade, away into the darkness, away, free...

Were he any less exhausted, Gregor would have groaned and screamed again, this time from pain and sorrow. He was far too exerted, though, and couldn't expend himself that much. Instead, he opened his eyes and quickly whirled back to the crowd, searching for Mareth amongst the onlookers. The soldiers were now pushing back the civilians, leaving only the guards and soldiers and royalty present. His vision was blurry, though, and, unable to distinguish anybody, he gave up and called out. "Mareth!"

Mareth hobbled out from the crowd, leaning over Gregor as the Overlander bent to his knees. As the man sidled up, trying furiously to ask questions and speak in whispers, Gregor just shook his head and swallowed a few times before gasping out a few words. "Send a squadron of soldiers after him."

"What?" Mareth cried, leaning closer. "What are you speaking----"

"He survived, Mareth!" Gregor cried. "Arthur survived the fall, now get people goddamn after him!"

"Gregor, there is no possibility that Arthur could have survived such a fall----"

"Mareth!" Gregor gasped, straightening up and taking the general by the shoulders, causing several nearby guards to tighten a hold on their weapons, ready to use should he become ballistic upon their leader. "I don't know how, I can't explain it, I don't _want_ it to be so, but he survived that fall! Remember what happened the last time you didn't listen to me? If you don't send people after him this minute he will get away, and everything will go for nothing!"

For a moment, Mareth could only stare at him uncomprehendingly. Then, slowly, the general turned to one of his men, an officer. "Send a squadron out. Find the bodies, learn what happened after the fall. If Gregor speaks true, track the man down. Kill him on sight."

Without comment, complaint, or any other verbal response, the officer, bowed once, before instantly hurrying off to comply with Mareth's wishes. Mareth turned back to Gregor, possibly expecting an explanation, but the Overlander had already pressed on, looking for a particularly tall member of Luxa's entourage, who would clearly stand out from the crowd. It took less than a moment to find him, and he was already bent over the body that lied on the ground, which Gregor refused to look at as he approached.

"York," he said, drawing the man's attention instantly. Gregor gave no chance for a response, launching right into his statement. "Get back to The Fount as fast as you can. Tell everyone to prepare for war with the cutters. Get soldiers up, fortifications ready, any defense you can mount. Attack could happen at any second, they always need to be ready!"

Gregor was already turning away again when the bewildered response came. "Where does this come from?"

"That monster just broke his word to an entire species, sir," Gregor said, pointing out in the direction of the cave into which the villains had disappeared. "A species which takes honor highly and will stop at nothing to repay the disloyalty we have just served them. If they will come, they will come in force and wipe out everything in their path. Get to The Fount and raise the alarm. We can't delay."

There was silence for a few moments, while they stared at each other with a brisk, uneasy, but mutual understanding. They nodded once to each other, and Gregor was about to turn towards the last scene, the one he wanted least to face, when York spoke again. "Overlander. With Arthur... he was my ambassador, but I swear to you I knew nothing of this. I was not a part----"

"I know," Gregor interrupted. "Get to The Fount."

York nodded and turned away, walking at a pace equivalent to many men's run as he took off back for the city and the palace, most likely to retrieve his bond and make off for his home. Gregor watched him go with pity at the shame he must have been feeling at the moment. At the same time, though, he felt resentment, for it had been York who had brought Arthur down upon them in the first place. Unintentionally, though. With a heavy heart, Gregor forced his eyes away from the giant, though, and finally turned to the final, most gruesome sight.

Vikus was standing perfectly rigid, next to his grandson's body, face chalk white and uncomprehending, staring off into the distance as opposed to Hazard's face. Tears shone on his cheek, and his hands were shaking, but he wasn't moving and appeared beyond comfort. Howard was bending over the child, rock still and staring downward at the massacre of what Hazard was left as. The young man's hands were bloody from the boy's wound, and it was obvious that he had just been utilizing some respiratory technique to save his cousin. Unsuccessfully.

Worse than the sight of those two, though, was Luxa, cradling Hazard in her arms and lap. The boy was long gone, all skin drained white of blood, the blood already ceasing to flow from the wound, his Halflander eyes staring lifelessly towards the ceiling. Luxa was staring down at the dead child with solemn eyes, a mouth clamped hard shut, and a face of stone. There were no tears, no gasps, no sobs, no gulps. She was like a statue, staring at the lifeless body of her taken brother. Gregor wanted to break down into tears himself at the mere sight, but knew he couldn't afford such a breakdown at that point. It was far too late for agony, anymore.

Then, slowly, Luxa turned her head upwards to him, and he saw such agony, such sorrow in her eyes that it almost crippled him to his back on the ground. Their gazes locked, and it felt like her heart, frozen with shock, was pouring through to him, ripped in two, shredded apart, as everything she cared about suddenly fell to pieces and fragments before her very eyes. There was resentment, horror, love, pain, grief, all melted and boiled together as one. He couldn't stand to see so much of each in one place, and wanted nothing more than to look away. He found that it was impossible to do so, though, and had to look on into her despair.

Then her expression hardened, and she climbed quickly to her feet. Breathing suddenly more heavily, anger and hatred suddenly rushed into her face, so much so that Gregor could actually tell the difference as she raised her voice and shouted out to the soldiers in general. "Gather all the troops we have, all the fliers, anyone we have to go to arms! We're marching on the Cutter Lair!"

Vikus didn't move, but Howard's face shot up to her like she was crazy. She ignored the reaction, waiting for the soldiers to overcome their sudden hesitation, assisted by a fierce glare, and abruptly rush to uneasily follow her orders. Taking a final look at Gregor, she turned away, back towards the castle and began to walk with a purpose, towards Aurora to march back for the cutters. Gregor watched her go for a moment with surprise and horror, before quickly stepping after her and coming up alongside.

"What do you hope to do, Luxa?" he said as he walked, trying to force as much pain into his voice as he could, trying to show her how much he could see her feel.

She didn't reply for a moment, and Gregor didn't believe she would, already knowing where he was going and choosing to ignore it completely. A long pause later, though, she opened her mouth and made a response. "I will wipe them away from the Underland. I will crush them. There will not be a single cutter alive when I am finished. I will kill them until I am lacking for anything left to kill."

"What will that get you?" he repeated, in different words, speaking louder. "It wasn't the cutters, Luxa. It was Arthur who did it. You can't blame them for the crime on you here. You go against them, in their own Lair, and you will be destroyed."

"I do not care," Luxa replied quietly, but forcefully all the same, walking quicker. "I will strike them down myself if I have to. I will make them pay."

"Luxa!" Gregor cried, catching her by the shoulders and swinging her around to face him, halting her in her tracks. The guards who had followed stepped forward and seized Gregor instantly, but didn't do anything, only urged him with quiet but steely voices to release her. She was regarding him with the same expression as before, only now suddenly mixed in with hatred and fear at the same moment. Staring deep into her eyes, he ignored both of the hindering factors and spoke only to her.

"Luxa, Hazard is gone. He is _gone_. You could go and murder every cutter that lives, but he would _still be gone_! Nothing you can ever do will bring him back, and I won't let you throw away your own life just so that you can die yourself. You will live, because Regalia cannot lose both of you... because _I_ can't lose both of you. You have to survive, for them, for us, for me. Nothing you can do will change anything right now. You can't die for nothing."

"What is going on?" Mareth shouted, stomping up to the group, returning from his task and laying a hand on the guards restraining Gregor.

Without removing his eyes from Luxa's scared face, Gregor made the reply for her. "She's ordered a full scale attack on the Cutter Lair, with every available force. Full invasion force."

"_What_?" Mareth cried. He turned swiftly away and shouted back out towards the castle, where soldiers were heading with haste to prepare for departure. Cupping his hands, he bellowed, "BELAY THAT!"

He rushed off to restore order and sensible orders to his men, leaving Gregor still in the vice grip of the guards, clutching Luxa with desperateness. Lowering his voice low again, staring right back into the queen's eyes, Gregor whispered, "You would leave Regalia defenseless. If you would fail, the cutters would just keep coming and destroy the ceiling. If you succeeded, even still, the spinners, the diggers, anyone of them would invade while you were occupied. You would be sentencing your city to destruction, all for a revenge quest that would never grant revenge. He's not coming back, Luxa. And nothing will ever make that feel better except acceptance."

Even as he spoke tears began to fall from her eyes. As he finished, she slowly collapsed against him, toppling them both to the ground. The guards released him as he went, standing rigid and watching as Luxa feel on top of him, suddenly sobbing uncontrollably. As they hit the ground she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and put her head to his chest, crying like he had never seen her cry before. As she cried, he found himself crying as fell, their tears mingling and merging somewhere in a pool around his chin. There was nothing blocking anything between them now. They were one soul, combined in the dust of the ground, fused in their agony, bonded by their trust and love. They wept together, grieving and mourning and surviving, while they wished so hard that they hadn't.

They remained like that for a long time. Somewhere in the middle Mareth came and removed the guards from their positions around the two of them, sending them off towards the castle, where Gregor distantly heard an emergency defense was being compiled. The general stayed standing by their side, not guarding but more like overseeing in the friendliest way possible, standing by with their sorrow as best he could. It was all he could really do.

Without their knowledge or realization, Hazard's body was removed. The hours passed in the dust so quickly to the two that one moment it was still there and suddenly several servants had arrived and grievously taken it away. Luxa turned her head once when they passed, but said nothing and her head never left his chest. Howard came over and sat down beside them, now waiting on the now empty ledge, vacant except for the final few remaining guards, who stood fiercely watching the entrances into the cavern like hawks. Vikus had gone with the body.

The young healer received an amount of his tools and injected something into Gregor's leg. Slowly, the pain still surviving from his poison injury began to subside. He didn't ask how it had taken so little time to combat. He didn't rightly care that much.

After so long a time had passed in the coldness of the ledge that none of them could tell, the five fliers and riders who had been sent out as the squadron after the Viceroy returned, empty-handed and exhausted. They reported right to Mareth at the cliff, giving him a full and detailed account before he dismissed them. They then flew on to the palace as Mareth returned and relayed the story to them. They had flown to the body of Equinox, and, as Gregor had told him would happen, they found only the body of Equinox. The echoing fliers found a path of footprints away, but they hadn't been able to follow it very far before the tunnels got too small for the fliers, and the soldiers had to move on alone. Not long after that, though, they got too far into the stone for their memories to allow, and had to return to their fliers. In all, they lost the trail, and were forced to return.

The Viceroy got away.

Luxa never moved as time passed. Servants brought food to them, but Gregor barely got her to eat anything. Howard tried to check on her as her doctor twice but she shrugged him away both times. Hours went by and still she didn't shift from where she lay atop Gregor's chest, and he was past the worry point by now. Even as his worries for her came, though, another set of them crept up as well. The servants supplied that six hours had passed since York's departure, and still the giant man had yet to return or send a messenger back with news. Gregor asked Mareth how long it took the average flier to get to The Fount, and he was supplied with an uneasy answer: just short of two hours.

But they could do nothing. They didn't dare send another flier, but it was getting far too late for a response to come. Mareth and Howard both trekked once to the palace and back for news on the subject but there was none. All they could do was wait uneasily for York's return, beginning to dread a problem. And never once didn't Luxa raise her head from Gregor's chest.

Until the moment when Mareth spoke up. "York, out of the tunnel."

Luxa shot up, staring out towards the walls. Gregor sat up with her, as Howard perked up beside him. All four of them looked out to where they could see a lone, large flier gliding back to the ledge. The guards on the hill had already noticed it as well, and were regarding it suspiciously while not hostile.

Howard stood and began to rush down, to meet his father as they came in closer. Luxa climbed to her feet and reached down to help Gregor up himself. She clutched his hand desperately as they hurried after the young man, along with Mareth. They walked down just as the flier reared up for a landing. Suddenly, though, Gregor's heart shot into his throat, and uneasiness was everywhere. At the exact same time, he felt Luxa's hand clamp harder down on his own, and Mareth stiffen beside them. He had no idea what had caused the reaction, though, until Mareth said it.

"He has someone with him."

The large flier fell to the ground with a thud, and Gregor saw what he meant. York was sitting atop the bat rigidly, very rigidly, _forced_ rigidly, and sitting in front of him was a young girl, perhaps a decade in age, with shoulder length straight hair. She was unconscious and covered in fierce black dirt, and that was the precise moment when Gregor knew something was wrong. The bat appeared in shock, and as York hopped down from it he did so with an empty step. He reached up and took the girl from the back of his flier into his arms, and slowly carried her forward with a hollow expression on his face.

Howard's face fell as his father approached. "Chim..." he said under his breath, reaching out towards the girl's face. Horrified, his gaze shifted up to his father. "Father, what is----"

York interrupted, but he spoke to Mareth, right at the general, only to the general. "Whole city. Decimated. Was destroyed when I got there. Rubble, debris. Entire expanse utterly decimated. It appeared as if they attacked with us off-guard. And they destroyed as the same way."

"What?" Howard said, mortification entering his voice, as Luxa clamped down even harder on Gregor's hand and he felt his heart die inside of his chest. "But... the family? Mother? Stellovet, Hero, Kent?"

His father shook his head, voice cracking as he replied. "Gone. Found Chim in the remnants of our home. Only survivor. I scoured the city. There was nothing left anywhere. Wherever they attacked, they did not stop until they finished the job and properly annihilated everything. Bodies everywhere. Fires. Chaos. It is all gone, all washed away by the cutters."

Howard dropped to his knees into the dirt, Luxa gasped, Mareth swore and lowered his head to the ground, and Gregor tried desperately to make some sane sense of what he had just heard. They didn't speak, they didn't cry, they didn't move as York said what he said and then slowly turned to look at each of them, obviously still trying to understand what he was saying himself. Gulping, he looked right at Gregor as he added his final statement.

"The Fount is gone."

* * *

The Council was called into session.

It was considered an emergency. Another squadron of fliers and soldiers was sent to The Fount, in the case that some survivors had been overlooked in York's haste. It was unlikely, but something had to be done. Nobody of Regalia could simply believe that their sister colony had simply been wiped out. Gregor couldn't comprehend it himself, but he was still trying to process the thought that only that morning he had been flying full speed with Eris back through the deepest portions of the Cutter Lair.

Chim was rushed to the infirmary, under the shaken care of Howard. From his preliminary look, he said that she was only mildly concussed and bruised, and would eventually make a full recovery. No one took him at his word, though. He was in far too much shock over the disturbing new news for anyone to trust him at the moment. A trio of secondary doctors were assigned as well, only to watch Howard's actions and prevent him from mistake. As a precaution.

In the council chamber, as they rushed together to discuss the sudden disturbing matters, Luxa amazed both Mareth and Gregor by taking a firm lead of the situation, evidently ignoring her feelings for a long few moments of discussion. They debated fiercely, swiftly, over the act of war with the cutters and the matter of it; such as the attack was clearly such an act, but they weren't positive that Regalia could hold against its own cutter invasion should they go to war at that moment. In the end, after only a short discussion, they decided to simply put up all fortifications and restrictions on the city, call all possible soldiers and forces from all posts, request their allies for reinforcements, and pray for safety. They could do nothing more.

Luxa excused herself for retirement shortly afterward. Mareth let her go without comment, only a "sleep well", and the council split, anxious and disturbed, in no way going to receive a good slumber. Never once had the queen inquired about Hazard, nor made an offhand comment about her cousins or people of The Fount. She was stoic, regal, powerful.

For the moment.

She went without guard in the direction of her quarters, up staircase after staircase. Gregor followed her without speaking and no one tried to stop him. He made his presence clear to her until he was walking a short few steps behind, and he knew she knew he was there. He walked behind without saying a word, without making an offhand movement. They walked in silence, up towards her chambers.

At her door, she didn't hesitate, she just pushed her way in and left it open for him to follow. He entered without comment, and turned slowly to close it loudly behind him. Turning around to face her slowly, he wasn't sure what was about to follow.

But then Luxa just collapsed once again into his arms, sobs racking both of their bodies quickly, and they fell to the roughly carpeted floor together, as one, in their pain, misery, suffering. Neither knew how long it would last, but both were knowing of the fact that it would not cease to burn them any time soon. They bore the horrible burden together, and grieved as they would.

After a while, they cried themselves to sleep.


	43. 42: Heartless

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**Speaks for itself. Kind of. Chapter 42. Enjoy!**

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**42**

**Heartless**

When Luxa woke up in the morning, she was still in Gregor's arms, and he was still asleep. They hadn't shifted once through their night, still lying on the floor, still facing each other in their slumber, his arms curled around her back as she slept against his chest. As she shifted slightly, stretching as much as she could without disturbing him, she could clearly see the tearstains on his cheeks, sustained over the night. There hadn't been a good feeling in her chest, but just seeing the reminder of sorrow sent a shard of decay back into her heart, and an entirely new wave of agony was suddenly inside of her.

As quickly as she could without waking him, Luxa disentangled herself from Gregor, doing her best not to look at his face. She needed to get away from him. Right now. Or else he would just be a present, constant reminder of all that had happened. And, just barely, despite all of the unbeatable love she felt for him still, there might've been just the tiny bit of hate growing there, too. None of what had happened had been his fault.

But she needed to blame somebody at that very moment, and right now it was him.

She left him lying on the floor as she left, anxious to get away and seeing him comfortable enough. The door was relatively easy to open and close noiselessly, so he went undisturbed as she fled. She didn't even see him rustle or shift as she left, and was grateful for the fact.

Whatever she was trying not to think about as she went, Luxa walked without purpose or destination. If she had asked herself where she was going or why, she would have answered to both simply "away", for some reason she wasn't eager to share with others and was too afraid to confront itself. She found herself wandering the halls without aim, keeping to the higher and vacant areas of the palace, thinking as she walked and walking as she was thinking. Either way, nothing except ignorance happened in her mind, as she tried not to picture Hazard's hate-filled face as he charged the Viceroy, and even more so the fear he possessed as the sword was forced through his chest.

No tears came anymore, but the wave of agony that suddenly shot through her nearly sent her toppling to her knees. As it was, she fell into the nearest wall and sank slowly to the floor, trying hard not to think about what had been taken from her the day before: her brother, half of her kingdom, her very soul, perhaps Gregor's respect and love...

So much taken, nothing returned. Too much.

If she was like this now, it only made her worse to think about what she would feel like the next day, and the one after that, when she would start to realize exactly how much the things that had been taken would affect her. Then it would be pure horror and terror. She would be a queen of a fractured nation without her brother and her love, the two most important people in the world to her, and on the very edge of war with a very evil species. She had no idea how she was going to manage, or if she would even manage to. And then she tried to understand why she was thinking of her duties when she should have been thinking of Hazard. And she couldn't.

Ripred's death hadn't been as bad as this. She had always assumed that all close deaths to her would feel the same, just a great feeling of loss and destruction, accompanied with horrible grief and deprivation. Losing Hazard, though, was obviously far worse than losing her bond. She didn't know why. Maybe because Hazard was younger, and would now never get the chance to live out a long, filling life with so much joy and happiness...

Hell, now she felt even worse, and she couldn't comprehend how it could worse. Or why it could. There was already a hole inside of her. Now it only seemed to get wider and wider and wider.

What could she do? She didn't know what she wanted, what she needed. Grieving was getting her nowhere, and it didn't appear like it would anytime soon. She couldn't afford to go a long time without recovering, due to her position in rank and the impending cutters. Gregor was suddenly foreign to her, there and strong and bold and loving still, but abruptly turned into a stranger by unique and evil forces of nature, not a place to go for emotion assistance. Howard was distressed and mortified himself, having lost his entire family to the attack on The Fount except for his father and Chim. Vikus was probably just as bad off as she was, having lost a grandchild.

Come to think of it, Vikus had lost much more than a grandchild. Not just the four grandchildren he had lost (combining those from The Fount), but the old mediator had also lost two previously and now all three of his children, all to war and destruction, not to mention his wife. And, through all of that, he somehow managed to keep his mind from going insane, and still find strength to counsel her through some of the most difficult times she endured as the ruler of Regalia.

If anyone could help her, right then and there, it was probably Vikus.

She picked herself off of the floor of the hallway, thankful that she was utterly alone in that certain wing of the castle, private in her worry, grief, and agony. Making sure to compose herself for a moment, silencing the shaking her knees had unconsciously adopted, she took slow steps as she marched off into the direction of Vikus' private quarters.

It was a short trip, encompassing only one level of the castle and one quick staircase. She met no one of her way, and did her best to think of nothing except the route to his quarters. Haste was frantic in her step as she moved ever closer. Nothing mattered to her suddenly except overcoming whatever it was she suddenly felt. Even still, thoughts of Hazard crept into her mind every few moments, and she had to quickly suppress them before they took over her mind. She considered it a blessing when Vikus' door finally appeared before her, growing as she approached and finally stopped, regarding it with unease as she raised her hand to knock.

She rasped once, letting the noise rebound through the stone and into his room. She heard nothing from inside. "Vikus?" she called, waiting anxiously for a response, or a shuffle and the door opening.

No reply came. It was still early in the morning, and he was probably still asleep, especially after all of the stress the previous day had presented. Any other time, with any other matter, and Luxa would have left him to his slumber without hesitation. Here, though, she couldn't afford to waste the time it would take for him to wake up before speaking with him. She knocked on the door hard once more time, calling out to him lightly. Still no response was made, so she slowly pushed open the unblocked door after a slight hesitation.

Vikus' quarters had become filled and unorganized since the death of his wife, seeing him filling more of the room in an effort to overcome his grief and still utilize the evident space suddenly permitted to him. Volumes of notes and translations, histories and coordinates, were spread out over the ground, in stacks, covering almost every free space of the corners with no care whatsoever. The large bed, now only occupied on one side, stood in the middle of a long wall in a separate room, just through a small doorway, which Luxa immediately headed towards, calling out her grandfather's name softly as she entered the threshold.

What she saw impossibly made her day worse.

* * *

It appeared that the strain really had finally become too much for Vikus to handle. Losing four grandchildren, three children, and his wife, all cumulative, must finally have been enough to shatter Vikus' heart and will to live. So much, forced upon him in so long but so great of a lifetime, finally finished him off. Luxa could only hope he went semi-peacefully.

She had run for help the moment she found him facedown on the floor of his bedroom. Help had been long in coming, but Howard announced when he had finally arrived that Vikus had died long before Luxa had arrived there. Her cousin announced without even suggesting an autopsy that the cause of death was a stroke, brought on by extreme stress and mental angst. The old man had most likely not suffered for more than five minutes before the injury claimed his life. Nothing could have been done to save him, Howard said, even if they had found him the second the stroke happened.

A small squad of guards and servants came and removed the body, set to be properly and traditionally stored until proper arrangements could be made. She sat down on the bed and watched the entire operation in horrible silence, unable to say anything. None of the guards knew what was running through her head, and so they made no voice towards her until they spoke of their departure. Howard was clearly as shaken up as she was, but was already shot down by the burden of his own family's death, and couldn't do anything in the way of comforting except give her a grieving hug when they were alone, and saying a few words which meant nothing. She only nodded at him as he left, along with the final healers and guards who had been summoned. Gregor hadn't come, which meant to her that he was either detained by unknown difficulties or unaware of the happening. She heard him order them to leave her be, and was mildly grateful. Only mildly, though.

The door boomed closed behind them, and once again Luxa found herself alone, in a cold, empty room, with her thoughts. Everything around her was Vikus, even beyond his death, and that reminded her of Hazard, which was worse. Thinking of Hazard only through into the mix memories of The Fount and its dilemmas, and suddenly she was thinking only of things that gave her sorrow. She'd cried so much the day before that she had grown weary of the practice mentally and physically alike, so no tears came now. The pain of loss was still abnormally present, though, and stabbed into her like a dagger every moment she kept thinking of those long lost.

She decided, though, then and there, that she would not avoid the thoughts. That would only prolong her grieving and lengthen it, meaning her recovery would also be later then. Instead, she would encounter the thoughts as they came, and hope to conquer them with resolve and satisfaction quicker than she would otherwise. It sounded good in theory.

So she started to think of nothing except her brother and her grandfather. She thought of their faults, their great times, their happy moments. Anything except for their deaths, although she did her best to remember that they were no longer there anymore. Long times passed, and she realized just as fast that her method wasn't working. She felt no better, and the people she loved were still gone. So many had died, so many had gone. The Fount and its population, all wiped out. Her cousins. Her family. Ripped off of its axis and torn apart by the evil of one man.

Her mind was wandering.

She got up and began to move about the two rooms, picking up and examining items of apparent interest, slowly sorting through piles of paper and stacking them correctly again. She would be here, sorting through Vikus' effects, soon enough anyway. Occasionally, she would take a second look at a certain document she picked up, or an interesting-looking map layout of the Underland, before casting it away again into a certain pile or stack or shelf. Nothing held her attention long enough to matter to her, stashed away in Vikus' things, while she still had so many difficult thoughts on her mind.

Until she picked up a rolled up scroll of parchment and hesitated before throwing it away.

She paused because there was no label and the light string used to tie it closed appeared as though it had never been disturbed. She found it strange that her grandfather would hold onto something he had never opened, and hesitated for only a moment before she carefully undid the string, pulling it away and unwinding the parchment so she could read what was printed upon it. She didn't recognize the handwriting, but somehow she understood who was writing the message even before she had finished reading the first paragraph, and confusion and curiosity suddenly gave way to sorrow and amazement as she just kept reading through the words:

_Hazard,_

_If you are receiving and reading this, then in all likelihood and probability I am dead. If that is true, then I would have to tell what I would be forced to believe and say that Luxa is, too. If that is not correct, then you need not read on after this sentence. If it is, though, then you must listen to what I have say, but only have the time and ability to tell you through this letter._

_Many people will probably have told you this by now, and I have no way to make you truly believe it, but, honestly, I understand what you're going through. There was a time in my life when I believed my sister, albeit my younger one, to be dead. While in your case the development is true, the feelings you experience in the unknowing and certain period are one and the same, and I have felt them just as you are now. Because of this, I can tell you what you are feeling right now cannot and will not ever get better if it is all you think of. It is all right to grieve. Natural to grieve. But never can you allow your grieving to become your life, as it appears to me that it already is. When grief is inside of you, nothing but rage is there as well, and rage is dangerous to the mind. Never let the grief inside of you, Hazard, truly inside of you, or you will never be around to recover afterwards._

_There will a time when you realize it is all right to move on without her. Acceptable, desirable, but only if you truly wish for it to come. It will not be there for a very long time, and the pain will be there for just as long and far after. The pain will never go down, even after you recover, but after a while it will numb and eventually subside into something bittersweet and manageable. But only if you are willing to move on._

_Which will be an absolute necessity if Luxa does not come back. In that situation, while not directly regal, you will most likely be in direct line for the Regalian throne. You cannot rule and grieve at the same time, Hazard. One or the other, but not both, and the latter will destroy you eventually. After death, your sister will not need you. In life itself, your people will. You must be able to take upon them after she is gone with the full intention of being for the people, or you will always be scarred and misjudged because of your grief._

_I do not pretend to know what that situation would be like. I do not know if anyone would ever know what that is to be like until they are actually in it. Here, though, you must learn to cope, to survive, when we did not. Because someday you might have to make the very same decision, leaving somebody else behind, and then they'll take over. Right now, however, it is _you_ on that throne, you who have to make the choices for your people. Recover, and you will lead them well. Do not, and everything will fail._

_There is a time to grieve, and a time to understand there is something beyond grieving. You will know this difference. I am quite confident of that. Remember her, but never forget what you must do for Regalia if she does not come back. If you do that, you will always succeed in her, and my, eyes. You do not have to forget, but learn to forgive._

_And, Hazard, if it matters to you, I know you will do a much better job of all of it than I would in your position._

_You brother in less but still more than blood,_

_Gregor_

Her hand was shaking by the time she had finished reading, petrified by the words that weren't meant for her, meant for the boy that had died trying to bring vengeance in her name, for the wrongdoing made upon her. She gulped, thinking of Gregor's words, and the wisdom behind them, the truth, the real understanding that he, and now she, had of the way despair ran.

She didn't know when or why Gregor had written the letter, but it had been meant for someone who was no longer there. And somehow it had come to her, and she had understood its meaning probably better than the writer had initially intended.

She dropped it as she heard the door to the room be pushed open behind her, out of surprise and relief rather than guilt. Instantly stopping the terrible shakes racking her body, it took only a second, while the visitor entered and closed the door behind them, for her to figure out who it was. Howard was smart enough to have left her on her own, Mareth wouldn't invade her privacy in such an important time, and York was too busy with his own grieving to come and find her. Which left only one person, one who she wasn't sure whether she was relieved or startled had come.

"Luxa?" Gregor called quietly, drifting around to just behind her, from where she had been standing with her back to the door. She felt his hand reach up and lightly touch her back, a quiet inquiry for a sign of life. She nodded once to affirm his request. Dropping the hand, he took a step closer and to the side.

She hadn't noticed the tears on her cheeks until he reached up and brushed one away lightly, causing her to turn her head to face him. The slight hatred she had felt before was now completely erased, but there was still some thick tension that hung on the air. She tried to open her mouth to say something, but found she couldn't. Gregor just shook his head, though, in an understanding way, and just stood silent as she leaned into him, mind drifting into the note again, as his voice quietly soothed her into a happier train of thought. "It's okay."

No it wasn't.

"It'll all be okay."

Just maybe.


	44. 43: A Dark Tomb

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**Wonder if anyone's bored of this sort of stuff. Just two more like it, then we got more stuff. Here we go, 43. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: What story? I don't see no dumb story.**

**43**

**A Dark Tomb**

The council met three times within the next two days, all to try and decide the measures about to be taken against the cutters for their murderous attack on The Fount. A great matter of importance was simply the fact that the humans had lost a great deal of their fighting force already, and to declare all-out war in formal terms would be to alienate the few allies they still clung to. The spinners, fearing a retaliatory attack upon their species due to simple association with humans, had already recalled their ambassador and were sinking back into their territory. Many of the council feared that the crawlers would be next.

Also in discussion were The Fount and the Viceroy, who would henceforth be known simply as Arthur. He had disappeared completely, without a single trace, into the caves. No known destination, no obvious location. Nothing. It was like he had just shrunk and disappeared into the dark shadows. No measures were known to be taken about him, so it was decided that a simple "shoot on sight" order was to be sent out, and the citizens were to be careful. The Fount, meanwhile, was being salvaged, as much as was possible, and deserted. At another time, they said, it might survive to be rebuilt. Now, however, with war on the horizon, they couldn't afford the liability that would be in the reconstruction of the city. Soldiers were journeying daily to strip the debris of anything remotely valuable, and then bring it back to Regalia in any possible way. That was all that could be done.

The public was in an uproar, which only added to the workload that had been shoved into the council's face. The destruction of an entire sister colony had half of the people screaming for vengeance and the other half terrified and wary. Either way, The Fount's assault had taken a serious negative reaction with it as the news swept through the crowd, and it seemed, at first impressions, that riots might be on the verge of breaking out should the situation be left to linger.

Luxa headed each council session with ferocity to be admired, but it was all over the still rustling cloud of grief she was only just beginning to tame. The evil and terror was still inside of her, and it was still torturing, but understanding, if only a tiny little bit, was finally coming to her. Still, though, beyond grief, there was an ominous feeling hanging about, and she couldn't tell if it was simply impending war on top of sorrow or something completely different.

Gregor stood by her every moment of the day, always there but never imposing. Always, though, there was an undefined distance that was abruptly set between the two of them, one that Luxa couldn't really see and yet could feel across the air with ease. Their gazes rarely locked, but when they did she found herself quickly looking away most of the time. She had no idea why. Suddenly they were just separate, not inside of and with each other as they usually felt. Some hidden force had driven a wall between them, one which she could neither see nor combat, nor find anything to get them to merge again.

Each day Mareth fortified the city's defenses as much as he could, sending patrols out, getting weapons and attack strategies ready. Apprehension was heavy in the air, and his tactics only added to the disruption and horror the public was spreading inadvertently at every apparent opportunity. Luxa could see, regrettably, that his measures might have had more of a negative effect than the positive. Still, they had no choice but to continue with his orders, for she could understand clearly that he was the only one, perhaps save Gregor, that knew exactly what the cutters were perfectly capable of.

Everyday brought news of more difficulties in the salvation of The Fount, but still their patrols gave them nothing in the way of any cutter infringement onto human territory. Not a sound or movement had been picked up by the fliers in their regiments, nor any assault recorded upon any of their or the gnawers' small outposts. There was not even a clue of hostile or warfare action from their abrupt enemies, and no one knew the cause of this strange happening. Luxa and Mareth met twice on the subject, wondering if this was a trap, luring in the army of Regalia, or if the cutters felt they had made a legitimate error in their evidently premature attack on The Fount, in which case it would be in their best interests to launch their own assault upon their enemies. Both times, though, they made a mutual decision that any offensive action on their part would be a great hindering in their own defenses, due to their naked lack of ready and trained soldiers. If a war was to be fought, they would either have to gather many more allies and troops together before any outward assault could be made. At the sudden moment, the greatest priority for them was defending home against outside attack.

Envoys were sent to the fellow species of the Underland immediately, all asking but doing their best not to plead for military assistance as a war seemingly dawned. One of the few things Luxa confided in Gregor during those few days was the fact that, at the dark moment, humans had very little to offer the allies they were asking for. Debts would be sprung if any were to accept, and nothing good would come from debts at such a critical point. Luxa was only just beginning to see that a dark age which might last decades, should they survive the war, if she were to be any bit careless in her royal and military duties.

All in all, death was frequent and on the waiting horizon, and their situation only looked grimmer as the slow days passed. But still no battles broke out, no cutters invaded their territory, and on the third day Luxa awoke knowing that her day would be filled with practices much less hectic yet much more difficult than those of her previous few.

Funerals.

She had asked if she would like to be the planner of the events, but declined probably faster than was appropriate. The last thing she had needed, while going through the shambles of one half of an underground nation while dealing with vastly conflicting emotions, was to plan the farewell ceremonies of two of the causes of those conflicting emotions. Therefore, she had deflected the task to Miravet, and hadn't taken a second look in the same direction the entire time. Until the day when she would have to face her emotions for the final time.

Gregor nudged her awake, already roused and dressed from where he had taken night's refuge on her sofa cushions the previous night. Speaking quietly into her ear in a voice of soothing tones, he obviously tried to ease his voice as he spoke the words. "They will be buried together. It's an early ceremony, starting in just two hours."

He halted, trying to gage her reaction as she lay still on her side but was clearly awake. She turned her face to him, apparently sensing his incompletion, and waited as he paused before he went on. "I am sure no one would think less of you if you chose not to go."

His words took a moment to sink in, but in that moment they succeeded only in infuriating her. He could see into her better than most, and he evidently saw _a lot_ of how mortified and conflicted she still felt. Even through all of that, though, not once should Gregor have ever doubted that she wouldn't be able to find the strength to attend her own brother's funeral.

He thought she was weak. Which only made her madder, and drove them farther apart.

So she just shook her head and climbed out of her bed, moving to get dressed, doing her best not to look at Gregor as she did. He hesitated only slightly as she pushed past him, sensing the coldness clearly evident in her tone, before taking shaky steps towards the door and departing quite quickly. She ignored his departure as she fitted herself with appropriate attire, trying to keep it as formal as possible while not taking much notice of what she chose. Mostly something black, she tried to arrange. Every errant muscle and nerve in her body was currently doing its best to control her emotions.

She took a long time, how long as she felt was needed to make herself a composed, while pained, queen, a great example for her people. Gregor awaited just beyond the door the entire time she dressed and readied herself, patient and silent and evidently frozen in place. He didn't raise a word against her timing, even as a simple hour slipped away as her rage and agony fought away inside of her.

When she had finally composed herself, she walked from the room and waited until Gregor told her the exact location of both the ceremony and burial. She nodded to him once, accepting the information with only formal thanks, before gliding regally but difficultly out the stone door, followed closely behind by him. Together, yet separate, they quickly descended the levels, past so much familiarity that portrayed only angst, out to the platforms, to be lowered to the street levels below, where, escorted by a very heavily armed guard, they began to make their slow passage through the streets out towards the far fields, where she would forever say goodbye to her chosen brother.

The city was in mourning for the lost, both from The Fount and the two they were about to bury. The latter couple were mourned mostly in deep respect for Luxa, as they were close family, but The Fount was felt by all, whether those closely enwrapped in the actions and happenings of their government or those not. Anyone they passed was garbed completely in black, and always bowed deeply as her entourage went by. She made no movement in response, the traditional acceptance without return. It marked the mourning stage of her family, as she had learned long past.

No crowd, human or gnawer, however, appeared for the burial. Assumedly from Miravet's request, Luxa could suppose, a private ceremony where pedestrians would be unable to see their queen break, should Luxa succumb to such weakness. All the people that were there as the ensemble arrived were the minister of the funeral and consequent burial, Howard and York, standing off to the side, observing in silence and appearing slightly shifty, and the workers who would drown the bodies beneath the dirt.

Luxa didn't pay attention as Gregor pulled her to a stop ahead of the two corpses lying amongst a great swirl of black fabric upon rough stone tables, laid out in the dirt ahead. The guard stopped with her, but still she was entranced in a horrified way by the solemn, false look of peace etched on the faces of her two dead loved ones. Both of them, Hazard and Vikus, had been changed by servants into special garb for their burial, and appeared stoic and courageous in their death gaze. A face she happened to know that neither of them had worn in their passing.

A pause slowly grew its way into the air, everyone freezing for an unknown reason. After a long moment, Luxa realized they were waiting for her to approach and pay her respects. Every eye in the surrounding plot was focused on her, patiently waiting or observing as she prolonged what they believed inevitable. Taking a rattling, shaking breath, though, she just shook her head, making it clear she planned to do no such thing.

A long moment of hesitation passed again, as the minister raised his eyebrows and her cousin's mouth opened slightly in surprise. Before it could stretch into awkwardness, though, York bowed his head and stepped forward, taking the lead instead of her. The giant man slowly walked to Vikus, standing next to the table, over the body. He closed his eyes and recited a silent prayer for a long moment, before quickly opening his eyes and moving next to Hazard, doing a much shorter version of the same attempt. His duties fulfilled, he returned to his spot next to his last remaining son.

That son stepped forward himself next. Doing much the same as his father, he walked to his grandfather and moved with his unspoken words, mouthing them but keeping them to himself as always. After completing his tone he moved solemnly to Hazard, reciting something longer than his father but still what Luxa could only see as too short. Finally, he too resumed his previous position around the scene.

The final personal member of the party besides herself, Gregor gradually stepped around her and made his way towards the bodies. Going first to Hazard instead of Vikus, however, Gregor dropped to his knees ahead of the boy and placed his forehead against the stone table, bringing his hands to rest on either side. Luxa didn't see his lips move, but was sure that he was trying to say something aloud. She didn't try and strain to her; it was private, and she wasn't prone to invasion. She only watched in silence as he delivered whatever message he was aiming for. After several long, strained minutes of the same, Gregor finally climbed back to his feet and walked to Vikus, where he rested a hand against the old man's table as well, but decided to stay standing. This time he did speak aloud, but it was only a single sentence, and he mumbled it so quietly Luxa didn't catch it. Bowing once before both of the bodies, Gregor returned to his spot behind her, with a downcast head, without another word.

Luxa, much as she had been with Ripred, didn't listen as the minister opened his over-trained mouth and began to recite the cliché tones of mourning, the overused words of goodbye. The more she observed the happenings, the more it seemed to imitate Ripred's funeral to a fine point, minus the absence of gnawers and any other parties. There was still too much sorrow in the air, far too much misunderstanding amongst the soldiers, and a man whom she felt extremely distant to standing behind her. What she did catch of the words, which tried to depict the greatness of her brother and grandfather, seemed to lack any trace of what she believed them to be, so she made up her own version as the minister went on and on. No stopping. No understanding. Just on and on and on.

She felt Gregor shuffle closer as the speech grew longer, perhaps to offer her comfort. It did quite the opposite, as it turned out, reminding her only of how much wrong there was suddenly in the world, blocking out all the light and good there was supposed to be. She found her eyes locked upon Hazard's face, remembering and trying to forget the look he held as the sword flashed through his body, as Gregor's eyes lit up in dark horror and he rushed back upon the Viceroy. Somebody had screamed then, but she wasn't sure if it had been him or she...

Tears found no place through her sorrow. She was far past the stage of agony for them to come. Now there was only emptiness, which she had strived so hard to conquer and had done a pretty good job up until this point. Everyone had always told her that the point of moving on began when you didn't try to forget, but tried to forget to remember. The memories would still be there, but you wouldn't always be referring to them as often as you did. She finally understood the meaning and logic behind the words, but suddenly found that she had no intention of trying not to remember her brother, trying to keep away the memories of Vikus, playing with her in his precious spare time as a tiny child, blocking out all the minuscule amount of pleasure she still possessed.

She was thankful when the minister stopped talking. A moment of silence was taken, when she reacted as she had the entire time, and the others did their best to honor the people they had insulted by not knowing. The stillness of the air reminded her that the killer was still free amongst the distant rock, which prompted her to break the silence. She didn't, though, and still her two closest family members lay dead on their tables.

The honorary moment ended, and the minister nodded once. The two workers of the ceremony stepped forward quickly, first to Hazard. With practiced hands, they wrapped the boy's body with the fabric he lay over, curving it in intricate, ancient twists, and pulling it tightly before they let it alone. One on each end, they carefully, respectfully, lifted him from the table and carried him back to his already dug grave. The hole was deep, but Luxa could still see the small stone coffin that had been laid inside for him, as he was laid inside of it. The workers then proceeded to do the same with Vikus.

Gregor wrapped a strong but weary arm around her waist as the workers lowered the top slabs of stone over their faces, sealing them from the world forever. She stared at Hazard's face as long as she could before it disappeared from view with a loud crunch of rock. Once it had gone, she switched immediately to do the same with Vikus, even as he too was away beneath rock. Without even hesitating, the workers then proceeded to shovel the dug dirt back over the stone in the foot it had yet to be covered in, one to each grave. The process was quick, and suddenly there was nothing but smooth-dirt over the graves, as if they had never even been there, and a numb arm was wrapped around her waist.

They were gone.

There was no more agony. She had gotten over that stage finally. The angst was gone, the sorrow was no longer there. All there was left in her soul now was emptiness, a vacant gap that didn't seem to be able to fill with any stray emotion or conclusion. Now there was only mystery and desertedness, left over from what had once been disaster. It terrified her.

Without a word, she pulled herself from Gregor's grip and began to walk away. She nodded once to the guards and shook her head, and they got the cue that they were not to follow, that she was going wherever she was head at her own risk. And, for once, they listened without complaint.

Truthfully, she had no idea where she was going. Just away. Away from the fear and the danger. Away into something that she found worth fighting for. A place where she didn't feel so lost and so hopeless. Somewhere where there would suddenly be something she needed again.

She had expected Gregor to follow, just as he had in the recent activities so often. Now, however, he seemed to have finally picked up the anger she felt, perhaps not necessarily at him, but the mental scream that she didn't need him lounging over her every minute of every day. So, for once he stayed put, letting her pull away and walk away and so many more things away, away, away. He let her go when she suddenly realized that she wanted him to follow, that for the first time she actually needed him to follow. She was empty, and she needed something to love again with all her heart. That was him, but now he was not there, all of a sudden, off his own status quo, apart from everything she needed from him. Because she had seemed to need a little space. So he didn't follow her as she walked away, trying to find a light into a new life.

But she wished he had.


	45. 44: Burnt Blade

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: laxgoal31, Castaway5, T.R. Miles, stephanie, KBXXROX, Surreptitiously Anonymous, Darkrider013, november21, OneReaderAmongMany (x2), wwlego,** **ExoGriDBaseball7****, ****very good ΩΠψΨΥΣ΅◎△□◇○ , and deathsinger****.**

**Apologies for delays, but I broke my finger (like REALLY BAD BREAK), which made typing a near impossibility. :/ Finale (mostly) of the angst. I promise. Ish. 44 be here, finally. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: They will never catch me...**

**44**

**Burnt Blade**

Luxa walked for a while, but the hours drifted by without any kind of resolve, and eventually she gave in to the fact that there probably wouldn't be anything remotely of what she was looking for occurring imminently, and so set off back for her room, neither caring for her hunger nor thirst as she went.

She didn't see the time, but the night hours were almost assuredly soon in coming. She was exhausted, thought from what she wasn't really sure; walking never took that much out of her, and she had not mourned physically. Perhaps her mind was just in overdrive, and needed a desperate rest. Either way, there were just too many undesired thoughts in her head, and she knew she would never be able to force them away long enough for sleep to come in their place.

She watched, from where she sat empty on her bed, as the torches in the city were dimmed for the night. Her citizens were now ending their final chores and preparing for bed, or either a late dinner. She wouldn't be following their example in either of those options. She was so filled with energy of a strange, evil level that she couldn't even close her eyes. Thoughts raced past her mind's eye, but she couldn't quite comprehend what they were before they past. In essence, she was thinking without thought.

Gregor never returned to her quarters that night. He hadn't left her side for a moment ever since the losses, but now she seemed to have knocked the idea into his mind that she didn't want him to be there anymore. Now that he wasn't, though, it only hit her that she needed him now more than ever, when she was lost and needed guidance back. But maybe she had made him lost, too, and now they were strangers to each other.

The night passed over coldly. She sat in the same spot on her bed, unwilling and unable to slip into sleep. She never got up, never turned her head away from where it stared into the window. Her eyes kept looking into the night, not sorrowfully but nowhere close to joyous. Her mind ran its own course, thinking the things she didn't see and not quite acting sanely. Still she waited, though; for what it was she was waiting for she hadn't the faintest idea, but the wait stretched itself onward without prompt, and she let it go without fight.

She might have gone on sitting like that for days. Years. Maybe until the end of time, only because she didn't know if she had any reason to climb back to her feet again. She might have gone on sitting until she forgot how to sit, if, somewhere in the very middle of the night, she didn't hear the door to her quarters open very slowly and quietly.

She didn't get up. Her only reaction was to pivot her head slightly so it faced the doorway between the two rooms. She probably should have been alarmed, with an unknown intruder entering her private dwellings in the late hours of the night or early of the morning, but all she felt now was a very strange version of dark curiosity. As it was, she had a pretty good guess as to who her visitor was, and, as he rounded the corner and came into her view, she proved herself correct.

"I thought you'd be up," Gregor said lightly, quietly, mildly sadly. He had changed his black clothing of the funeral, into a lighter gray shading of the same outfit, although lacking the ever prominent overcoat. He looked exhausted, and that only made her wonder how bad she herself looked.

She didn't reply, more because she didn't know what she could say than whether she wanted to or not. He waited for one to come, even after many seconds delay, but finally seemed to realize he wouldn't be receiving one. Taking very slow steps, making ever action clear to her, he strolled to the side of her bed and lowered himself to perch on the edge of the weak mattress. They sat next to each other, uneasy and uncomfortable, for several moments, as she waited for him to continue. He hesitated many times, opening his mouth, closing it again, and repeating the process in rapid sequence. She actually believed the tension to last for several moments before he actually spoke.

"If you would rather I leave, please just say so." She still remained silent, and he sighed, shaking his head. "Then what do you want me to say?" She whispered her reply, croaking and cracking as she did so, but it was so quiet at first that even she didn't hear it.

"What?"

"I said, I don't know."

He didn't move, but she could see frustration dancing across his eyes as he stared across the dark night towards her. He turned his head away, and looked like he wanted to sigh again. He didn't, though, and for a while they once again sat in silence. She was wondering if he would be making another statement, for she certainly wasn't, when he did speak again. "Do you blame me?"

Her response was instant. "Never."

"Then why are you closing yourself off to me?" He turned back to her as he spoke, and there was clear pain etched into the very makings of his eyes. It wasn't the type of agony she was feeling, though. Inside of her there was emptiness, fear, chaos; what she saw in Gregor was shock, surprise, shame, regret. "You can't do this, Luxa. Right now, you can't avoid people. You can't become suddenly distant like this. So much has been lost that no one can afford to be alone at such a time as this. Especially someone in your position and authority. Don't run away from me."

His words shook her, both in her mind and deeper inside still. She barely understood them, but she realized that he was looking towards her as if she were on the ground below him, knocked over and crippled. He was offering her a hand, to lift her back on to her feet, and she knew that he was absolutely right in doing so, and in everything he said. But she also saw it as him looking down upon her as weaker, and, even though she knew it wasn't so, this was the reaction she acted upon.

"I can handle myself, Gregor," she said. Her voice was steely enough to rebuff him, but still he didn't move. He only cocked his head slightly to the side and kept staring at her, as if trying to see inside of her.

"I never said nor did I ever assume that you can't. But not even you, the strongest person I have ever known, can take all of this, all which has happened, alone. Not even you can bear the burden that man was never created to carry. No one has that capability inside of them. Overlander, Underlander, no one."

"I can," she snarled. "And I shall."

"Luxa." He never raised his voice, never shifted it from the soft tone he was using to whisper to her. "Look at yourself. You're sitting alone in your chambers, late in the night when a queen should be getting much-needed rest, thinking about who the hell knows what, because you're afraid or unable to fall asleep. Afraid of what might find you if you close your eyes----"

"You are mistaken," she growled, turning her gaze downward, trying desperately to escape from his scrutiny.

"Am I, Luxa?" he taunted clearly, baiting her into the open. "Am I wrong? you're smart, you're brilliant. I've seen you overcome so many things, I've seen you love, weep, kill... but never actually _grieve_. Do you know why that is? It's because you can't see the writing on the wall alone. You can't actually find the courage to look and _see_ that your brother will never again walk into this room." He pointed roughly off in the direction of Hazard's room. "You still believe that you can just pop downstairs and suddenly Vikus will poof out of nowhere just to talk to you. The Fount, hell, it's still there, they just all made a big huge mistake." He paused and took another deep breath. "You don't see that those things will never come back, no matter you do. The sooner you can, the better you'll feel. But alone you'll not see them."

He reached out for her, and instinctively she shrank away from him. Quickly, though, his hands snatched out and captured her wrists, jerking her back upward. He pulled until her face was a mere inch away from his own, but there was nothing intimate about the movement. His breath was inhumanly cold against her cheeks as he whispered his continuation, eyes literally locked into hers, as she found that she couldn't find the will to look away. "They are not coming back. They are gone, dead, destroyed. All there is now is you and your kingdom, and sitting in your room, wishing for them to be here, will not help. They are gone forever, and that means that they will never come back."

He didn't release her. They remained locked together, staring desperately into each other's eyes. Only he could have triggered the shock that warped over her at that moment, and the realization did splash over her, hard and cold and devastating, just as he had clearly planned.

She began to shake, but Gregor didn't pull her in closer, into a loving embrace, something she wanted him to do so badly. Comfort would never find her with such things in her mind, but for the first time in her life she found herself truly wishing for someone to come along and kill her. She had lost everything she ever had, starting slowly with her family, progressing into it being her life and her people, and now even Gregor was staring at her with cruelty, showing no signs of compassion whatsoever. There was nothing left. Not even pain.

So then why was there so much of it?

"How can you say such things?" she mumbled, sounding much less secure than she had hoped. His hands hadn't shifted from her arms, only perhaps closing down harder upon the delicate skin. "Why be you so cruel, Gregor?"

"This is not cruelty," he snarled back, in a tone so low she wouldn't have been positive of his words, had she not seen his lips move and his eyes crackle. "This is pity and mercy. Cruelty is what you have been doing to yourself, by denying everything I've just forced you to realize. There is no cruelty here by my doing, only what you have thrown upon yourself."

She understood. Unfortunately. She wondered why she kept clinging to the memories, the glee, instead of the anguish. She had not an inkling why she couldn't accept the fact that they were gone. She had with her parents.

Perhaps, she thought, that had been a different time. One where there weren't as pressing things to worry about as war and destruction. When she hadn't been the queen, the person everybody looked to for guidance in the difficult times. When she had been innocent and utterly free of responsibility.

"You words are not pitiful by my ears," she replied, slightly rasping.

"Maybe that's because I say them from compassion. Not by evil."

"Why say them at all if you know what will come of them? Just more doubt and decay, terrible sorrow and anguish? What is to be gained by torturing me with these words?"

"Perhaps you acceptance, Luxa."

"Perhaps not. All I feel because of this is worse. Why try anymore?"

"Because I love you." In a split instant, she watched his shield collapse by pure intention, his walls giving way and his mask slipping off. His grip upon her instantly softened, moving from restraint and prison to loving and comforting. His eyes changed from ice to warm glow, but his expression jumped only from stern to pained. His left hand slipped from her right arm and gripped her fingers between his own. When he spoke, his voice was pleading. "Luxa, I'm losing you. You're falling away into darkness. Every day I can see it getting deeper, as you try to make these realizations alone and slower. Each minute you're slipping farther and farther away, and I'm scared to death that soon you might cross a line you might not be able to jump back over. I can't lose you; I won't survive. And there is no way I'll watch you shatter to oblivion without doing everything I can to prevent it from happening."

She had no words anymore. She was just staring back at him, comprehending what he had told her and what he had _really_ told her, linked and locked behind and inside his words. She hadn't the descriptive purpose to explain it all to herself, but she knew enough to realize all he had just let slip past his carefully guarded soul, all and only to her.

She gulped once. "I have you, still. That would always be enough to anchor me here."

"Would it?"

"Always."

His eyes were confused, but also relieved and considerate. A barrier fell between them that very moment, gazing repeatedly and eternally into each other's stares. Emotions poured between them, thoughts and memories, regrets, remorse. They souls were more or less one and the same, thrown into the same turmoil and emerging still, no matter how many times a blade managed to pierce their protective layers and bringing them cringing to their knees. There was love, given and reciprocated, in a truth neither had ever known before, something they had felt before but never actually truly known until that very moment, in her room on a higher level of the palace, during a cool day in the Underland where remorse was long and heavy in the air.

His other hand slid down her arm to grip her hand, and at the same time she leaned back onto her bed, falling down amongst the sheets and pillows, pulling him down with her. He landed at her side, on his side, never once breaking the contact between their gazes. They both kept still for a moment, lying together in the soft, before she rolled over onto his chest, curling up inside his warm embrace, knowing the pain and remorse but suddenly seeing that it might go away sometime. His arms swept around her in a seemingly effortless swipe as she tucked herself in, and they remained perfectly motionless thereafter, nothing but happiness and contentment floating between them. There was still grief, but it was so much smaller, and locked away from each other, to be dealt with slowly over time, as it would be tolerable. There was only the two of them now, more like one, and the glorious feeling that was the other's skin pressed closely against their own.

Bliss.

They were silent for a while. Luxa was thinking about Hazard, actually, though for once she managed to do it without feeling pain. She thought about what had happened, but didn't quite become fatigued with the regret. She thought for a good long time, maybe even longer than she wanted to, before her mind turned back to Gregor. She shifted her head slightly so she was looking up at him, and her gaze drifted to his neck.

Reaching up her closest hand to run ever so softly across the deep red marks that were permanently etched in his skin, she whispered up to him, "You never actually told me how you got these."

His eyes flicked to her hand, then back to her, and once more to the ceiling, where they had rested most of the duration of their embrace. She felt him take a deep breath, and removed her hand again, gripping one of his own as he responded. "As I think I told you the first time you asked, it's a bit of a long story."

"It does not appear as if we have anywhere to go."

He hesitated clearly, flinching slightly below her as his mind flickered back to her request and his denial. He cleared his throat once, to stall for time for a response, before sighing and giving in to his words. "It's really not a pleasant one."

"Most are not."

"Not something I really want to relive. In my mind, in yours, anywhere."

"Pain is never good when it is bottled up."

"You're one to talk."

"Just speak, Gregor," she whispered, flipping herself over slowly so that they were stomach-to-stomach, and she was staring at him right in the eye from above. She could feel his comfortably warm breath on her face, and knew that he could feel hers as well. Softly, she continued. "Say and let it never be said again. I want to know, and you need to tell."

He didn't hesitate anymore. He just opened his mouth, staring hard at the ceiling, strengthening his grip around her body, and began to speak. Not talk, never talk. He began to _speak_, to tell. And she listened.

He told about the accidents, the dangers, the massacres. How his city had fallen and his family had gone with it. He told about how his father and he had crawled to make the family survive. How his father had finally become crippled again with the effort. How his grandmother had succumbed to the darkness of such a horrible time. He told about the attempted kidnapping of his youngest sister and what he had done to keep it from happening. He choked up but kept going as he spoke the words that depicted the violation of his mother and other sister, the battle that had left him killing two and receiving the nasty pair of scars that Luxa repeatedly stroked, over and over again as she grimaced at his description. Eventually the words just rolled out of his mouth without effort, coming on their own once the great unpleasantness had escaped from the scene. As he got around to his arriving in the Underland, to his rescuing of her, he was able to let up slightly, until he was telling her a part of the story she already knew. Before long, he was saying things she could have phrased better herself, and so ended his tale altogether and stopped talking. He was exhausted from the great remembrance, and she could clearly see the toll it had taken upon his mind.

When he was done talking she started telling her own side of the equation, starting again as they parted five years previously. He listened as she spoke, but already knew a lot of what she was saying. The Viceroy had come, prosperity reigned for an appropriate period, until the cutters came and took her away. For the first time she talked to him of her imprisonment, of the torture that hadn't been intentionally inflicted through sheer starvation. Of the long days and nights of nothing, waiting for nothing and hoping for everything, all the way to the moment when he killed the sentry and barreled into her cell, lifting her up and away. All the turmoil afterward, the anxiety and anguish at his rebuffs, but how she had decided in the end that she couldn't put off the wedding. Everything else was clearly known to both, and needn't be repeated any more times than was necessary.

When they had both filled in the gaps for the other they simply talked. Just talked. About anything there was, anything that popped into their head. For the first time in forever Luxa actually felt mildly content, lying there in Gregor's arms. There was still the inner turmoil, but the time had finally come when she was able to push it off until later to deal with, and she didn't really care what she said in the way of privacy if it was to Gregor. It could have gone on forever, if only there weren't responsibility in the world. But even still, she could feel the pain, know it was there, but also know that it would never affect her like it had.

She wasn't quite happy. But satisfaction was close enough.

When Howard came to find her four hours later, in the earliest hours of the dawning morning, only to checkup and see if she was alright, he found the two of them still curled on her bed. He found her genuinely laughing at something Gregor had just told her, and even though there was a frown on the Overlander's face Howard could see a good twinkle in his eye.

In what felt like a different lifetime, far away in the past, Howard would have been infuriated to find the Overlander and his queen together anywhere near a bed, no matter how many clothes each was wearing. Now, however, as he saw some strange form of pleasure pass between them in a pure, loving way, he suddenly found himself reconsidering every judgment he had ever made on the pairing. He looked to his cousin, saw her smile, and wondered just for the first time if he had been in the wrong in years past. Perhaps not necessarily, but they were the ones truly made for each other.

More importantly still, though, Howard watched Gregor made his cousin happy in such turmoil, with so much loss so fresh. He watched as any trace of grief was erased, at least for the moment being. That, however, was more than enough to stir confusion and gratification inside of him. And even a little more.

For the first time, Howard looked at Luxa and Gregor and felt something besides anger.

Without his presence being known, he turned and departed from the queen's quarters, the ghost of a grin on his face.


	46. 45: Edge of Fire

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: collinsboy, Castaway5, november21, Darkrider013, wwlego, stephanie, T.R. Miles, and KBXXROX.**

**And here is 45. So close to the end. So close, not so far... Enjoy!**

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**45**

**Edge of Fire**

"Are we understanding you correctly, Overlander?"

Gregor stood on the center floor of the council chamber, surrounded by the entirety of its members, by now all glaring down at him with confusion or resentment. Luxa sat at her usual place, the only representative in the room that was regarding him with anything except shock, even though she too had no idea why he had just stated what he had only just happened to state. She was one of the only reasons he was willing to stand in front of the entire council and be rebuffed, just as was happening and as he had known would.

"I believe I made my position quite clear, sir," he replied quietly, addressing the man who had spoken directly.

"You think that we should take all measures to _avoid_ war with the cutters?" a human woman exclaimed from the first row, surveying him with wide, incredulous eyes. "We should do all we can to stray from conflict after what that species has done to our people and allies?!"

"Yes, ma'am," Gregor said, nodding slowly. "That is precisely what I'm advising."

"How dare you make such a suggestion?" roared one of the male delegates of the human party. The rats and few fliers were keeping abnormally quiet. "That species destroyed one of our cities! Destroyed it! Obliterated it! And now you tell us that we should take no aggressive action in response?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I am saying," Gregor responded louder, swiveling ever so slowly to face the speaker. "But not for lack of motivation to do so."

"Why, then, pray tell, do you propose no action whatsoever?"

"Because, from a logistics standpoint, you will be crushed without resistance."  
Gregor raised his voice and once again addressed the entire council, all species included, as he continued. "You have just lost half of your human fighting force with the attack on The Fount. That instantly cripples your army to fifty percent of its targeting force. Just like that, smash! Your forces send you into an immediate disadvantage."

"We have allies who will support us," the first man snarled, and immediately the non-humans of the assembly grew uncomfortable. "We will be backed when we make our attack----"

"I have already calculated that into the equation," Gregor loudly interrupted, staring the infuriated man down with a calm resolution. "The fliers have been factored in with the humans, meaning absolutely no offence or inferiority to they----" He paused and nodded once in the direction of the flier entourage. "----but that will still put us near half-force and completely at odds. The gnawers fight hard and strong, but their numbers and abilities are still crippled and weary from past wars. You cannot count on the crawlers to fight neither assuredly or valiantly for your side, and neither the spinners nor stingers would honor the call for the assistance. Put there, and you will obviously see that any match between you and the cutters will be a gross miscalculation and defeat on your part, resulting in a collapse of war, and, more likely than not, a decimating invasion where no prisoners will be taken."

He left his speech hanging into a silence by the council. Most were staring at him with understanding, but only Luxa, from her quiet position, was looking to him with support. He glanced at her with gratitude before a rough reply from another human man stole his attention away with an annoyed growl. "What makes you think the cutter powers are so strong? What makes you believe we will be inferior to them in combat?"

"I have been inside their stronghold, sir," Gregor replied in a polite voice that strung itself into a snarl. "I have seen what they keep at the ready at every waking moment, and that, never mind what they hold in reserve, would be enough to instantly cripple this city were we caught off guard. Never for a moment must you underestimate these opponents, dear council members, or the war will be ripped out of your controlling hands and turned instantly against you. Which is precisely why it should be avoided."

"Do you also take into account our position of various high ground fortifications?" a flier, to contrast, spoke. He was male, but his voice was not snarling, as the human opponents had. He sounded simply curious, and contemplative, and for this Gregor answered him in the same polite tone.

"Whatever high ground that we believe we possess would be nothing compared to the intelligence that their hive mind realizes. Any fortification or advantage in any attack on our territory would either be avoided or conquered with full force, making said advantages irrelevant. Basic to say, any terrain benefits in a battle against the cutters would not prove essential or useful in combat."

"Because of their strength?"

"That and just their pure _resilience_. If they are to come for battle, and, believe me, taken these courses of action you are planning, they will, they will come with no intention of backing down, no intention of ever voicing for retreat. When they invade, they will invade to destroy the human race of the Underland, and most likely to take the gnawers with them if at all possible."

The gnawer group on the council's stand immediately perked up at this mention, and instantly a few whispers were exchanged in various directions. One even poked his head upward and regarded Gregor with wide eyes for a moment. "You really believe we would come under attack in such a pitiful situation?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Gregor replied, raising and eyebrow and turning to the rat convening. "You're as much a nuisance to the cutters as humans are, only you haven't made a great act of offense upon said party. Taken the opportunity, the cutters would rid the world of you, much as they probably plan to do with humans. The only reason they have yet to do so is because the humans are currently the greater threat while you are weakened, and if they attacked you the humans would come crashing down to assist you in such an act. Before, this would have been a very risky act indeed. Now, though, with half of the humans already taken care of, you will be next on the list if the humans should lose this war."

An even steeper silence met this next statement, as the weight of it seemed to strike home among the delegates and representatives of the room. The gnawers were now conversing with each other rapidly in their own language beneath the tones of whispers jumping through the humans, while the fliers remained straight and quiet. Gregor allowed a few moments for contemplation before beginning again, but he was met by another gnawer's voice before he could continue.

"And then we would be held into our alliance with humans," an old rat spoke. "Or else be wiped out ourselves."

Gregor nodded, a grim flicker in his eyes. "And thus, that would be the collateral for humans to keep you in the war and on their side. A steep threat, not even delivered by they, but enough to just make you realize which side you must pay your homage to. A clear message.

"But, the point here is, they come not to end the fighting and to send a message but to execute a message they have been sent to fight with to the end. They will take what they can and destroy what they can't, and you will have to believe me when I say that there is nothing you can muster in defense or aggression to hold off their forces when the time presents itself. They will come. They will destroy. And they will show no mercy to any species what lies here when they do."

No one spoke. No whispers fled through the room. Had Mareth been there to oversee and participate in the proceedings he probably would have objected to any such claim over the army of Regalia, but, as always, he was too busy making preparations in the case of invasion. Which left only a council of cowardly old humans, all trying to see a loophole in Gregor's reasoning.

Several moments passed in the silence, during which Gregor glanced towards everyone in the room before resting his gaze finally on Luxa, who looked as much undecided as the rest of them. He held her confused stare until his attention was diverted away again by an elderly woman. "You come across with a sketchy point, and so even, we cannot allow such abominations to happen without consequence."

"I'm not saying that you should," Gregor stressed. "But right now, even after five years, you're _still_ recovering from the repercussions of your last war. You are in absolutely no shape to take on the next one, and it is far too early to do so anyhow. Patience and perseverance is all you can afford to endure now, and endure them you must, if you wish to ever avenge your fellows and protect your territory again."

"But what if we were to be attacked, just as on The Fount?" Surprisingly, it was a flier who brought the question up. "I find it astounding that we have come not come around to this scenario sooner. I implore you, Overlander, what do you think would happen should we come under fire whilst unprepared? Would it not be best to attack, and have the element of surprise, rather than wait for the cutter attack, which, we absolutely know, is about to come?"

"As a matter of fact," Gregor responded with a confident voice, directed to the council in general, "I don't happen to believe that it will. The cutters have just made a significant move and attack into human territory on The Fount, and such an operation is difficult to rein in and reapply in short fashion. True is to be believed, as well, at the moment, that their forces are spread out far and thin. If they are to invade, they want it quick, no mistakes, devastating, so they will wait to mobilize a full contingency before they execute any such attack. For now, at least, I would say it is a fair guess that you will have enough time, at least for the moment being, to ready yourselves without extreme worry. I wouldn't mistake that for safety, however. It is, after all, only a hypothesis."

Several men of the audience snorted loudly, and one even went so far as to laugh cruelly and clearly into the air, standing up and facing Gregor down. "A _hypothesis_. You openly say you are betting all of our lives on a _hypothesis_. A hypothesis by fools is what got us into this entire mess in the very first place, and now you're saying we do it _again_, when the stakes are so very much bloody higher?!"

For a long moment, Gregor regarded the man with a glare of cold refrain, with such intensity that the man actually stumbled and shuffled backwards half a step before the Overlander made his slow, angry but composed reply. "I wonder, sir," he growled. "To whom are you referring as these fools... Ripred and your gnawer allies sitting right next to you in this very chamber, or yourselves?"

Fumblingly, embarrassingly, the man stood flustered for a long moment, staring back at Gregor confusedly, trying to figure out how this boy, not even yet of age, had just beaten him. Gregor watched with satisfaction as he grudgingly returned to his seat slowly, and was all too aware of Luxa's barely perceptible smirk out of the corner of his eye.

He cleared his throat once. "Anyway, to answer your question, sir, yes, that is precisely what I am telling you to do. Bet your lives on that hypothesis, because so far, out of everything I have heard out of all of your mouths down here since I came back, I still come to the same damn conclusion: it's _my_ hypothesis, and I've been nothing but right. I was right about the Viceroy, I was right about the cutters, and so far you have no reason to doubt my sincerity on each occasion."

Fidgets in many different locations of the room followed promptly, mostly concentrated in the human area. The fliers were simply perplexed, while the gnawers were ever-watching and curious. Many of the men he had clearly insulted were staring at Gregor as if willing to throttle him then and there, but the majority were still looking on with understanding and hesitation instead of anger.

Gregor glanced up to Luxa to see her reaction to his statement quickly. She was composed as always, but a faint glint of support, maybe sidled with curiosity and confusion, still rested in her eye. Before he could give any sign of thanks, a voice pulled him back to the council. It came from a male human who had yet to speak in the current proceedings. Uneasily, he cleared his throat twice before looking towards Gregor and opening his mouth. "You speak wisely, it would appear. Here, then, if we are not to attack, what _would_ you have us do?"

"Work at nothing but fortification and stocking yourselves for a long conflict," Gregor replied. Before any of the council members could object to this statement, he added, "The conflict will come. I said to avoid it, but that will only last you so long. A finale of battle is inevitable. All you can do is delay. Eventually, no matter how hard you fight to the contrary, war will come around to find you.

"That being said, you have the time now to prepare, and prepare you should with every possible means. Weapons should be the main item of construction at all opportunities in the city, soldiers should be disciplined to a fine point, allies should be secured and readied."

"What allies?" a woman asked. "All we have in the way of friends is what you see here in this council chamber."

Luxa spoke up for the first time. "What of the crawlers? The spinners? Are they not able to fight for our cause?"

"Able to, yes, but willing, Your Majesty?" the same woman replied. "The crawlers would amount to little help anyway, and the Overlander himself said we cannot count on the spinners to honor any call for assistance we make. The stingers as well. We would effectively be alone here, short of what the gnawers can supply and what fliers are stationed here."

"I said that we couldn't count on the spinners to assist," Gregor spoke, loud and clear into the chamber. "But I didn't say it was impossible to swing them to our cause. With the proper prompting, they might be prompted to go against the cutters. Am I correct in assuming that the gnawer forces are still weakened?"

"Obviously," an elder rat answered him. "We will be feeling the losses from past conflict long into the future, Overlander. If this war comes, as you say it eventually will, we will, of course, fight with all force and ability possible. That, however, despite our amazing skill in battle, will amount to little."

Gregor nodded, impressed with the honesty bestowed in him by the rat. Perhaps Ripred had actually decided to teach his species a few manners in the years past. Luxa spoke his reply for him. "I am sure the council appreciates every sacrifice you will make should such a conflict arise. I know I do."

"This, however," said the first human man to speak again, "puts the question of numbers in great instability. We are strong, but the loss of The Fount weighs even heavier, it would appear, than we had previously calculated, due to the lack of allies. We are not powerful in our ranks."

"Yes," Gregor agreed, clasping his hands behind his back. "Does Regalia have a draft system for the army."

He looked to Luxa, but many murmurs of "yes" came from various council members, and another man still spoke up to voice his mind. "There is indeed, but it has not been utilized but for wars far, far in our past. It would be inadequate, at best."

"But still operational," Gregor countered productively. "I would suggest getting that into working order at a top priority. Any who are willing or able must be at the ready to honor the war call, for this may, quite literally, suddenly turn into a war for survival should a quick turn be made. They will fighting for their lives, whether it be at the fringes of the town or in their homes should the cutters break through.

"While you're gathering those troops you should send immediate envoys to the spinners, the crawlers, hell, even the shiners. Anyone who might be able to offer any assistance in such a war against the cutters. Every attempt, at all costs, must be made to establish alliance between yourselves and these species'."

The nearest human man grimaced. "It will not be easy to secure assistance from any of those creatures. What could we offer that they do not already possess or currently desire?"

"Land, assistance, anything," Gregor strained. "Without these allies there is almost no chance of victory against the cutters. You _must_ make anything work with them. Anything at all. Just get them on your side, militaristically. That is your very first priority.

"Your second is putting any defense around the city that you can. I would almost suggest blockading it from the inside out. Break off any land routes in, and fortify all possible entrances with as many soldiers and blocking devices as you can. Have you any catapults, trebuchets?"

"Very few. There's so little room to maneuver and aim such things in the tunnels, so we never believed we would have so much opportunity and need for those devices. The ones we do have may not be in working order."

"Then get them in working order," Gregor replied earnestly. "Those might be your most important weapons. This is all what you must do, for your city, for your people. Without delay, for every second you pass up the cutter army is in its Lair, converging and growing, preparing for the attack which will destroy you, should you not be ready or anywhere close to ready when it arrives. This is for your home, gentlemen and ladies, and I should not need to tell you that this precise fight may string you in a bloody war for not only your own lives, but the lives of all the Underland humans. You cannot fall, or fall with you the Underland will."

As he finished, the gnawers were speaking to each other once again in their native tongue, while the fliers were still quietly contemplating with their human counterparts. Most of the council was regarding Gregor the same as they had been the entire time, many calmed now while many still seethed. Luxa sat, slightly stiff in her throne, any trace of the smirk gone from her face, replaced with a look of determination but weariness, one which should have been unknown to one so young. Even after their reconciliation, Gregor could still see much exhaustion in Luxa, although her grief was becoming easier to conquer every passing day.

As for him... he had done his best to explain exactly what he believed the danger and definite deadliness with which the cutters would attack. He believed that the franticness and desperateness of the situation had been interpreted correctly by most, but he could hardly bring himself to hope that the chances of success in any repelling were more than fifty-fifty, if even anywhere close to such a mark. Fifty-fifty, though, he reminded himself, was much better odds than Regalia would have had had he not said what he knew and was sure was correct.

He was startled from his reverie thoughts by still another member of the council, addressing him directly. Shaking himself away, he was just in time to hear every word of the man's observation. "I have come around to notice, Overlander, that every time you have spoken of our preparations, you do not say 'we'. You say 'you'. I cannot help but wonder, why do you speak this way?"

Luxa's head snapped up faster than was healthy to glare horrified at him, but Gregor immediately looked away, before he lost the determination to do what he knew he had to do. Refraining from the sudden urge to shake, he slowly swallowed once, glancing anywhere but at the young queen, and slowly made his response. "That would be, because, sir, I do not plan on being here when the attack finally comes.

"With the council's permission, I would take my leave and depart for the Overland at once."


	47. 46: For Us All

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: Castaway5, ImagineKat, november21, stephanie, Darkrider013 (x2), Fitz Marksicle, anti-Fuhrer, RICE7, and Surreptitiously Anonymous.**

**Heh, heh. After a quick rethink of my ending, I decided to keep it exactly the same. Due apologies for the delay; now I had five baseball games in as many days. But here you go. 46. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Hey, we elected Bush. Anything can happen.**

**46**

**For Us All**

His eyes were locked onto a pillar of stone in the far rear of the chamber, but the only thing he could see was Luxa's mortified face in his peripheral vision, enlarged and excruciatingly depicted by his heart. The temptation to simply close his eyes and block off all of these sights was intensely great, but he forced them to remain open, to endure the pain like he knew they would have to do in the end. One damn way or another.

Meanwhile, the faces of the council members didn't look much better. Most were staring at him with incredibility, but he could have associated many others with something close to stupidity or disgusted stun. The fliers were impassive. The gnawers somehow appeared both amused and shocked at the same time, but mostly simply out of the way. Gregor, like always, was doing his best to hold the straight face he portrayed, waiting for someone to speak any reply to his statement.

Eventually, someone did. It was a gnawer, one of the youngest in assembly, but his head was held high, with dignity instead of spite, and he spoke with an experienced voice. "You would leave your people to a hopeless war in their greatest time of need? You would abandon them to their fate while you _run away_? Are you truly the famed warrior we have all known and heard so much of?"

Their was a moment of cold staring lockdown between the two of them, but Gregor responded promptly, with the appropriate amount of ice in his voice. "My reasons for leaving are my own. I leave at this exact point in time because I believe my job is complete, and there are items that require my attention in other places. Take this as you will, but believe me when I say this; where I am going, I would rather be here with you all, fighting, instead."

"Then why not stay?"

Gregor groaned inwardly and made his sigh apparent to the room around, displeasure clearly evident and present. "Because I am needed elsewhere."

"And you are not needed here?"

"Not as much as there." Both voices were now growling.

"How can you know such a thing?!"

"I simply do!" Gregor shouted. "It's a thing where only one person knows the answer while the others must look on and honor the fact that they actually know what the hell they're talking about!"

"You will depart from our company," another elder human man snarled, staring down Gregor with daunting and furious eyes, "at this point in time?! When destruction is pounding on our very doors? When the enemy will come to kill, not to be victorious? This is not what the warrior does!"

"The warrior died a long time ago," Gregor replied softly, contrasting the angry voice. "I am not he. What he would've done is not what I will choose to do, and I have chosen to leave, for my own purposes and opportunities. If there were any way to conduct these in Regalia, I would do so. But they cannot, therefore I cannot, hereby I cannot stay."

"Can they not WAIT?!" another human cried out to him, followed by angry agreements by several of the man's fellows and a few disgruntled gnawers. The fliers, as always, remained silent, although they looked considerably ruffled.

It took only a shake of Gregor's head to answer. "No."

More than fair share of eyes were trained angrily upon his face, but he was fighting them all back with an admirable vigor. Only one pair had him feeling uncomfortable, but they were staring at him in fear as opposed to rage. As it was, the seething of the others more than made up for it. Another human spoke up against him as the moment passed by. "What kind of coward leaves us now----"

"Cowardice is not a trait I would associate with myself," Gregor replied smoothly, crisply, coldly. "You can say what you will, but I can assure you now, there are very few words that could make me change my mind, and most are unknown to you. The fact remains; I am leaving whether you like it or not. You can either approve, or not. It makes no difference in the end."

"Do you honestly believe----" the first man once again started in anger, but not a moment into his furious speech an order of stone cut through his tones, steely and screaming authority and power at the same time.

"Ulerix," Luxa said, addressing the man. She spoke in a neutral tone, not loudly but too firm to be casual, and there was an underlying note that advised caution in return statement. "Leave us."

Gregor's head flexed in her direction, but he still did not meet her gaze. Most of the heads in the room turned the same way, although several still remained on Gregor and Ulerix himself, who was clearly flustered and grasping for a reply. Stumbling over his words, he stuttered out, "Your Majesty?"

"You are evidently aware of what I said," she replied, still staring at Gregor, which he was uncomfortably aware of all the time. "The rest of you, go with him. Leave us, alone."

Not one person in the room moved. Any person who hadn't been looking towards the queen before was now doing so. Most were slack-jawed, and there would have even been a hint of amusement in the room as well, had the mood clearly stricken by the two most important people there were any happier. Even the fliers appeared stunned. At length, Ulerix opened and closed his mouth several times before finding the words to come stumbling out, "I cannot possibly be understanding you correctly, Your Majesty. You are not----"

"Asking you to get the _bloody hell_ departed from this room, before I have to call security to perform the action themselves. And it would actually appear that I am _ordering_ you to do exactly that." Gregor had never heard her speak more coldly. More fiercely, perhaps, sometimes angrier, but never with as much disdain and annoyance as now, and, judging by the look upon Ulerix's face, the old man had likewise never seen anything like it before. Gregor could only imagine what look Luxa had thrown across her face to partner the voice, not daring to chance a look and be paralyzed by her glare.

For a long moment, the mood and positions in the chamber didn't change. Then, slowly, three gnawers rose to their feet, and only once they were fully upright did they start for the door. There was a long pause as they opened it, and then four more rats stood, followed closely by a small number of fliers. Uneasily, the first few humans and last of the gnawers trekked to depart, pursued quickly by the remainder of the flier congregation.

Finally, there was only Ulerix, still standing open-mouthed and flabbergasted, and a few of his fellow arguers. For a few moments the room was quiet and cold, filled with only them, the queen, and Gregor, who was wondering whether he preferred the room with only Luxa in it or if he actually wished not to be alone with her while she was this fierce. When the silence stretched beyond awkwardness, a soft growl surprised Gregor by finding its way out of Luxa's throat, and the queen spoke for the third time to the stragglers. "If I have to ask again, you will sorely regret it."

Without further hesitation his followers stood and rushed from the chamber, but Ulerix actually retained his position for several long moments before finally beginning to walk towards the door. He passed right between Gregor and Luxa as he walked, and Gregor, with a surprising hint of satisfaction, could actually notice the anger radiating off of the man. After he had passed, Luxa called out to him again, just as he was reaching to pull open the doorway. "See that we are neither disturbed or eavesdropped upon. Either infraction I will take against you as well as the culprit."

And then, with an imperceptible groan of annoyance, the man was gone. Leaving Gregor and Luxa perfectly alone together.

Gregor didn't know what he had been expecting to happen once the final people had gone. Nothing pleasant, probably, considering the circumstances. Still, though, he had allowed the council members to leave without protest, so he must have been somehow prepared for whatever it was that would be coming towards him from the young queen. Reluctantly, he finally let himself look up to Luxa, who still sat at her position up high, set apart from the rest of the council's seats and above the floor where he stood. With an effort, he was able to withstand the fierceness of her gaze.

Neither shifted their place, their position. Moments of uncomfortable silence passed, but still they remained where they were, low and high, guilty and hurt, waiting for her to act with whatever she had ordered everyone to leave for. The stone in her glare was so harsh that Gregor could barely stand to hold it, even after all he had been through and overcome. He could, though, if only barely, and maintained the stance with everything he could muster. Finally, when they had stood rigid for several long minutes, Luxa sighed violently, sadly, and spoke. The steel that she had put in her voice to speak with the council was now gone, replaced with something else completely different, something that threatened to shatter Gregor's fragile heart again.

Betrayal.

"Could you truly leave again? After everything we have just gone through? After everything you and I have just discovered?"

Gregor swallowed the agony that threatened to envelop him with the terrible tone of her voice, instead choosing to reply neutrally. "Do even you understand why I have to go again?"

"No, I do not believe that I do. I am not convinced that you do."

"Do you really think I would leave _you_ if it wasn't completely necessary that I had to do so?" Gregor exclaimed softly. As of yet, neither had raised their voice beyond a near-whisper level, but he wasn't sure how long it would last, especially if the conversation kept going in the direction it was presently headed.

Luxa remained where she was, high and staring down at him, utilizing the same tone of voice. "I did think that. Now, though, when you express such desires as the one you have just stated, I find I am uncertain of such things again."

"Why would I leave you, Luxa?" Gregor replied. "Why in the world would I leave you? I love you. I would die for you in a heartbeat. All I've wanted for the last five damn years is to be by your side. Do you actually think I _want_ to go?"

"Why else would you actually go?"

"Because I have to----"

"For what reason, Gregor?" she cried softly, eyes transferring instantly from intimidating to pained, mask slipping away slightly. "If all you speak is true, why would you have to leave me? How would you be forced to walk away from me again?"

For the first time, there was a break in the conversation. A silence entered the space between them, filled only with soft syllables of breathing from them both. Gregor opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated quickly, reluctant to bluntly state a response. Staring up at her, he closed his mouth again and thought for a moment, before finally swallowing and telling the complete truth.

"My family."

He watched nothing but her face as his words slowly sunk in. First her eyes contorted smaller in confusion, then widened again as comprehension dawned, and then finally realization crashed down in one single crushing blow upon her mind, and something he hoped was understanding eventually came into her gaze as they looked at each other. He swallowed several times as he watched her, praying that she would see the conclusion he had come to with preferred ease.

After several moments, she spoke again, but only to whisper his name aloud. "Gregor... they..."

"It's been over a month, Luxa," he replied, the pain from his soul leaking over into his voice. "They've been on their own for a _month_. If they're... still..." He stopped, unwilling to speak the word that spelled out his very thoughts. "If they are, then I can't abandon them any longer. They need me, now, and I still owe it to them."

"If they have made it to this point," Luxa said, seeing his evident line of thought. "If they have come as far as now, they can make it on their own the rest of the way. They can survive without you."

"How can I even abandon them, though?" Gregor stressed, still looking up at her from his position upon the floor. "How can I leave them there to rot while I am down here sitting comfortably?"

"I would never call a war situation comfortable."

"Not the point, Luxa," Gregor said quietly, trying to keep his voice in check. "Down here, I have you, I have a purpose, I have something I actually feel is worth fighting for. Up there, they have nothing, and I have stranded them there. Alone, without me to protect them any longer."

There was a short hesitation, during which both stared at each other with a pained intensity for several long moments. Slowly, then, Luxa stood from her place and walked down the steps to the floor level, so she could walk and stand right before Gregor. Stepping into that very place, she stood rigid a moment before reaching out a single arm and laying it gently against his own. He watched her swallow, thinking, before she spoke again. "What could you do for them that they cannot do for themselves?"

"Protect them, just like I already said." He grimaced momentarily, catching a brief flash through all the dangerous possibilities that could have befallen his family. He pushed the thoughts away before they could become sporadic.

"They cannot simply protect themselves? As you believe, and they have evidently done, ever since you left?"

"For now, maybe," Gregor said, stressing the situation as best he could. "But any day, the next kidnapper might come along, a murderer, a thief, and then comes hell. My father is too weak to defend them, and my mother never could. If I'm not there when it happens, they won't survive to tell this tale again."

Another silence stretched between them. Unconsciously, as the frantic debate had presented itself, Gregor had slipped his arms around to enclosing hers, while she had moved closer to him as well. They were now staring simply eye-to-eye, nearly all accusatory glances gone from their stares, seeing finally only the other side of the equation, trying to work around it. To Gregor, he already knew the way out, the one he proposed. To him, he believed no other way would provide the ends that were acceptable to him. Now he was simply stating the facts he knew too well, trying to dissuade her from holding him back. He didn't know what was going on in her head, but he could only watch and listen as she opened her mouth in reply, finally.

"If you believe your world is inhospitable, then, perhaps it is time you had a change," she whispered softly, looking him right in the eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, but remained impassive in expression as best as was possible. "Meaning?"

"A compromise, perhaps," she said, a thoughtful look deep in her eyes, something Gregor had seen a great deal of, particularly in trying recent times. "Go to the Overland, but return again.

"And this time, bring your family with you."

Her words left Gregor without any. He stood staring at her, open-mouthed, eyebrows raised, and speechless. His mind was doing something akin to a backflip, but mostly only because of surprise instead of revelation. It took a second for him to process the entirety of what she had said, but once he had it laid itself out automatically before his mind's eye. He never took his eyes away from hers, but eventually, when he finally clicked everything affected by the few words she had just spoken, his reply, and thereby answer, was simple.

"No."

"Why would you not?"

"No," Gregor repeated, shaking his head hard and quick. "No. I can't do that."

"Why?"

"No." The response came too naturally. "There is no possible way I am going to bring my family into the Underland. No."

"Is there a reason not to?" Luxa asked, irritation Gregor would certainly have experienced absent from her voice.

"Yeah!" Gregor exclaimed, releasing his hold on her and turning away. He walked a few paces, trying to clear his head of emotion. "There are way too many!"

"As of what?"

"Well, let's see! For starters, there's a war on down here. I really don't think they'd all appreciate me dragging them down into the middle of harsh, bloody, murderous conflict right now."

To his surprise, Luxa gave an intensely dry laugh. "Is that really any worse than what there is in your own world at the moment?"

Gregor hesitated, overmatched. After a second of indecision, he shook it off with a growl. "Regardless. No sunlight, no fresh air. They would be separate of everyone because we look different. They would not be able to _survive_ down here!"

"You have," she pointed out.

"That's different."

"How so?"

"I'm a rager."

"Would it matter that much?"

"It would to them."

"Gregor." She stopped his rant of denial with a stern voice, and actually managed to halt his thoughts with just that tone. He was therefore listening quite clearly as she went on. "You are trying to find ways to reject this idea. Why? It satisfies everything either of us wants. You, you have your family safe, where you can protect them and keep them under watch. And I will have you. Why do you still try to throw this away?"

He didn't know the answer at the moment that she asked the question. He didn't know what was holding him back when she inquired as to that reason. A moment later, though, he had the answer he was looking for. "Because, Luxa, no one would agree to it. You would. I would in a heartbeat. But the council is so against me now that they would block it even before we could try to get it in for consideration. Mostly, though, my mother just wouldn't allow it. I don't want to get hopes for us high again, when they'll just be ripped back away."

"I will _make_ the council agree..."

"And my mother?" Gregor grimaced, face turned away from Luxa, at only the mental imagining of Grace's reaction to a proposal such as this. Shaking it away, he turned back around so he could face her. "Luxa, I don't even know if they're up there anymore. If they're not, I don't know if I'll be able to survive with the guilt. But if they are, I'm nearly positive she won't agree, and I'll still be stuck up there, without you, forever. And then I'll die anyway. I don't want this any harder than it has to be."

"Don't leave me again," Luxa pleaded, taking a deliberate step forward until she was digging with her hands into his shirt, begging for him to stay. "Never again. Please."

"What else can I do?"

"Try it. Try this. Your mother will agree. Why would she not?"

"Because it's the Underland," Gregor replied. "And she will not let go of clinging to her own home?"

"What is there left for her there?" Luxa pleaded, trying and trying so hard to convince him. "If what you say is true, your home is not there anymore. All she has left is you and your family. Which would all be safer down here, away from the high dangers. She would agree to that."

Gregor shook his head and closed his eyes, resisting the temptation to wrap his arms around her. "I can't drag them into the middle of a war. I can't and won't ever do that to them."

There was a momentary silence between them. Gregor didn't know whether he wanted Luxa to hold her tongue and let him walk away again, making it so much easier, or to keep talking and hold him there with her longer. Either way, the way things were shaping in the heated debate, the path for him would not end, regardless, in happiness. Which was something becoming shockingly evident by the minute. And then Luxa made her reply.

"I am sure that they would rather enter a war side-by-side with their son and brother... then live alone, without him, in a different world."

She was trembling, and he was close to the same thing. His mind was divided, his morals challenged, but he finally found himself seeing light on her side of the exchange. Much as he had tried not to, he found himself actually hoping for the very idea to be accepted. Which meant now that he had no choice but to see it through, or else have his hopes, and heart, dashed mid-stride.

Closing his eyes, he said, "I could try. If they're still there, I could try. But I can't give you anything to tell you that she, and they, will say yes. And if they don't..." He hesitated, gulping. "If they don't, I'm not coming back."

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, in a trembling embrace, on a cold floor in an empty chamber. Emotions and thoughts and love passed between them at light speed during the moment, but eventually Gregor looked away, unable to take it any longer. Just the thought that the plan wouldn't turn around to work, that they might be separated again, permanently, was too much for his stressed mind.

He wrapped his shaking arms around her, and she leaned into him, and their thoughts were their own again. Straying away from doubt, Gregor now tried with all of his strength to avoid thoughts of collapse, and keep only the possibility of success in his mind. There could only be hope, alone in his mind. And there could only be the hope that Grace would say yes, for that was the only path that lead to his happiness.

But still there was the chance that she would say no.


	48. 47: A Much Smaller World

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: mmmlander (x2), Castaway5, Darkrider013, november21, stephanie, Fitz Marksicle, albejaibra, Josh, Surreptitiously Anonymous, iwasthere68, and smackgod9.**

**I'm sorry. I have no excuse for lateness. The long overdue update has arrived. Let's see how cliché my ending can become... yes? Chapter 47 for your great consideration. Enjoy! (And I'm afraid it's not quite over, by the way!)**

**Disclaimer: Have you ever wondered what idiot actually claimed one of these in the first place?**

**47**

**A Much Smaller World**

There were matters that needed to be taken care of before they made the journey. Luxa was not going to let him go by himself, but had to first make sure that a few arrangements and proper precautions were made and taken. It had taken longer than she had expected to swing the council around to her side in the proposal, and they had made it mandatory that she return, at the most, within two days. It would do no good for the public to know that their queen was exiting the city with danger so close, and so they also made a point of having to make the operation a secret.

Gregor was reluctant to take her with him in the first place if only for the danger of New York itself, but there was also the second reason in the possibility of failure. Should the idea be rebuffed, he would not be returning again, meaning he would be forced to turn her back and send her on her horribly sad way, as opposed to leaving on his own. Such a thing would make the fragile and momentous separation even more difficult, hard as it was to believe, to bear.

Eris volunteered to fly them, swearing to keep the event a secret. Gregor had full confidence that she would keep her word, and was both surprised and gratified for the offer. When he and Luxa stepped onto the platform to begin their journey, which both clearly recognized as a possibility for their _last_ journey together, they found the female flier waiting poised and ready. A gratifying minimum of words were exchanged, most only to clarify the route to Central Park through the caves and the stowing of the cloaks Luxa was forced to bring along, in order to conceal her Underland appearance. Once they were all prepared for the journey, they only waited for the go-ahead from a sentry post, flaring them affirmative, before Eris leaped into the sky and spread her wings wide, lifting the three up and away into the sky, quickly speeding up and away from Regalia. In a matter of seconds, the city disappeared from beneath them, and then quickly began to recede into the distance.

Luxa sat behind him on Eris' back, but no one spoke as the silent miles swiftly passed. Her arms were wrapped firmly around his waist, her head resting against the upper bridge of his back and neck. He could feel her breath on his left shoulder, and every exhale gave him the temptation to shiver. He held both of her hands in his own, cradling and caressing them affectionately. Their proximity made him want to forget everything that was happening to rip them apart. But couldn't forget them. In fact, at the moment, they were the only things on his mind.

He couldn't help thinking, feeling the fierce walls rush by but unwilling to see them through echo, that the last time he had been roaming these caverns that were now being traversed it was a traitor upon whose back he was sitting, and Ripred had been behind him in replacement of the queen. It had been a darker time than the current moment, but he hadn't felt so empty then as now. He could actually see the patterns of flight between the two occurrences, only in reverse.

The darkness around him was lighter now, metaphorically if not literally. He no longer feared the dark of this land anymore, as he had for so long, even before his return trip. Now the thing he found himself afraid of was what there was lying in the darkness below, around, inside. Unspeakable menaces of unspeakable proportions, only now which he understood. Even in places where there actually happens to be light. And still he found himself not truly understanding what he had just spoken to himself, of darkness and destruction.

Where there was no light, confusion reigned.

He thought of Equinox, the betrayer, dead as a result of his actions but a victim of a missing throw. How he had not known of the flier's treachery earlier, Gregor did not know. Even as early as his first meeting with the giant bat, he now seemed to find that there were signs of the event even that soon. So many wrongs in the course of the last few weeks would have been righted if he had only realized the facts sooner. So many of them. Ripred might not be dead. Hazard certainly wouldn't. Mareth would have backed Ripred, and the Viceroy would have been conquered by the duo. Luxa would be safe, he would be semi-happy, and life would go on in a much better situation than it was currently locked in.

If only, if only.

If only Ripred had come to him sooner. If only he could have taken out just a few more cutters in that final stand. If only the two of them had been a little faster. If only the Viceroy had been that much dumber. If only he weren't so desperately, deeply, hopelessly in love.

Troubling thoughts along such lines as these filled his exhausted mind from the moment they took to the air to the distant second later that Eris slowed her flight path, ducking low into a narrow tunnel, and flying quickly through a brief number of other side passages before pulling up short and dropping to the floor with an uncomfortable but unintentional maneuver.

"This is as far as I am allowed to take you," she said, stooping low to the ground so that they could climb off. "The way to the surface passage is through a number of routes straight forward from the current position. Using your echolocation, you should be able to find it with simplicity."

Striking a heavily oiled torch against the floor for spark, to benefit a stumbling Luxa, Gregor handed the device to her and shouldered the cloaks from Eris' back. Taking the proffered light, Luxa asked the flier, "Will you remain here while we are absent?" She stuttered slightly on "we", and Gregor flinched quietly.

"I will. For as long as you happen to be absent. My orders were explicit."

Flinching again, Gregor grudgingly spoke. "Exactly what were your orders?"

"Truly, they weren't orders. As I volunteered, they simply told me what to do. I believe what they happened to say was, 'Return without the queen and you will wish you hadn't'."

Both humans flinched this time, Gregor hoisting the cloaks firmly around as the two of them stepped back. He surveyed his flier friend briefly in the light of Luxa's torch, chewing reluctantly on his lip, before finally sighing silently and opening his mouth to speak. "I never got around to truly thanking you for what you did. Without you, I would never have accused Arthur, meaning he probably would have succeeded with his plan. You really have no idea how much all you've done means to me. If I can do anything to repay you, simply let me know."

She said nothing in response for a long moment, surveying him in the weak light with her deceptive and piercing eyes. They remained frozen in place for a short deal of time, before she swiftly responded. "Do you truly stand by what you say?"

"Yes. Simply speak your desire."

"Bond with me."

Gregor choked. "Pardon?" he squeaked out. Beside him, Luxa made a similar sound, minus the actual word, and muffled behind a closed jaw.

"Bond with me."

Trying to regain his breath from surprise, Gregor gulped once before even trying to formulate a comprehendible reply. "That's a very steep request to make... of anybody, regardless."

"You said anything."

"Yes, but this may be far too much, and I _never_ said I would grant it for whatever it was."

"I ask you: why not?"

"Because bonding is a very serious commitment," Gregor cried. "There are any number of reasons why we shouldn't, the least of which is the fact that I'm not entirely positive I'm even coming back here in the first place." He didn't need to look to see Luxa tense up beside him.

"These reasons are addressed every time a bonding arrives. They are overcome. Why cannot you?"

"I can't do this. Not now, or ever. Not in this situation."

"Would you even consider it?"

Gregor paused, trying to think of the exact reasons why he was denying the idea. There was the obvious, the difficulties and swearing vows that were put into the bonding process. Those alone were enough to worry about, which he hadn't properly done his first time around. But then there was also the farther facts, the ones of his constant travel and how he wasn't quite sure return was confirmed. Set all of those aside, even, and there was still a nagging feeling of doubt. The truth behind all consideration was that, even as he tried to convince himself, he had never truly gotten over Ares' death, and he was in no capacity ready to replace him in his soul or heart.

But he had spoken with forceful words, and she had replied with the same, and he found himself not eager to rebuke her. Stumbling for words outside his internal battle, he sighed several times before finally saying. "I'll... consider it."

"Which is all I ask."

He acknowledged her statement awkwardly, then shuffled his feet, stalling. Finally, he spoke again. "In the event that I am not so fortunate as to return, I fear this will be our last meeting. If this be so, let me say this. Very few impress me. Even fewer impressed Ripred. I feel that if he had been alive to behold you, you would have impressed us both. Regardless to say, you're a better soul than I've met in a long time, and it wouldn't be good to take that lightly." He raised a hand and faced it, palm out, towards her. "Fly you high, Eris."

The flier raised one of her front paws to rest palm-to-palm with his hand, fur against flesh. "Fly you high, Gregor the Overlander."

Gregor turned and took began to walk off into the distance, well aware that Luxa wanted her own quiet and separate farewell with the flier before they went their different ways. Standing at the very edge of the torchlight, barely but still visible, he watched as they brought their heads very close together and exchanged a number of words in hushed, quick tones. He couldn't hear nor did he desire to hear any of their conversation, but eventually he saw Eris utter something particularly long to Luxa, and they held each others' gazes for a long moment before repeating the gesture Gregor had made. A second later, Luxa had turned and taken the steps to join Gregor.

He waited until she was by his side, torch held high and steady, and then turned off to the tunnels, leading her in. Once they had turned a corner in the first passage and Eris disappeared from view, Luxa reached over and took Gregor's hand slipping her fingers between his too naturally. Their grasp was light, tender, more loving than the grasping involved in leading. The contact was bliss.

He didn't ask her what she and Eris had spoken of. It was private, and if he was destined to know than one or the other would tell him, in due and well-earned time. He had recently learned that what he didn't know but didn't yearn to know would come around to help him eventually, if he let it run its own course through the universe. Luxa would tell him if and when she felt ready to, and that was enough for him. At the moment, anyway, he was just trying to appreciate what he was experiencing simply from the held hands.

The path they walked gave him strangely nostalgic feelings at the same time, reminding him again, inconveniently, of Ripred. That, by itself, showed just how much he had changed in the short time from his descent now to its opposite. Feelings, thoughts, maturity, all now which he possessed as a result of all terror and menace he had been thrown through. He felt that the darkness was less thorough now than it had been the time he had come through heading the other way, now that he had actually felt a piece of it. Now the emptiness of shadows was filled, without physical form, by all emotions of misery and mystery. Which was truly what darkness represented, Gregor supposed. Even still, he still saw the shadows, even if they were changed.

Before he had even registered, they had covered the distance between Underland and surface, and he found his boots hitting concentrated stones instead of rock. He found familiar corners and turns in the dark, and plotted their exact location in relevance to the entrance to the Overland. He pulled Luxa slowly in that direction, ever evident of the encounter that only grew closer and closer with each rapidly passing moment.

He reached the hole, and let Luxa's fingers slip from his own. Carefully taking the torch from her, he handed her the cloaks, which she quickly wrapped around her slim body. Once she had properly covered her pale skin and face, Gregor dropped the torch to the ground and stamped out the flame. Making sure Luxa was fine in the darkness, he slowly felt upward to the stone that opened into the outside world. Weary of people on the other side of the world, he pushed up and out on the passageway.

Light spilled into the tiny chamber the moment he slid the blocking slab out of place. He had forgotten of the time differential between the Over and Underlands, which made it around midday on the surface. Moving forward relentlessly, he pushed it out and away, leaving a gap wide enough for them to slip through.

Releasing his hold on the stone, still blinking from the bright sudden light, he hoisted himself through the hole with strong arms, out into the world above. Quickly adjusting himself on the unfamiliar terrain he startlingly realized was grass, he reached back down and pulled Luxa up next to him, out of the hole. Setting her down beside him and waiting for her to climb to her feet, he slid the stone back into place, hiding any trace of the Underland once again, before turning to the outside world again.

Central Park was empty, despite it being midday. It was not uncommon, from what New York was these days, but not frequent either, and Gregor took it for luck that it had happened this way. It was a cool overcast day, although he had absolutely no idea anymore whether it was spring or fall or a warm winter. He could hear a few birds in the air, and one very distant car alarm, but otherwise there was only the wind rolling through the fragile trees for sound.

He turned to Luxa, who was enshrouded in her cloaks. She was staring upwards, trying to look at the sun, which was peaking ever so slightly between the clouds. Cupping a hand over her eyes, she was trying to look directly into its light and discover its origins. Almost losing the frown on his face, he gently reached over and turned her head away from the brightness. "That's the sun," he chided lightly. "Don't look right at it. It's too bright. It'll harm your eyes."

"Strange," she replied mistily, staring up at the unwelcoming skyscrapers around.

"New," Gregor said, taking her hand again and slowly leading her out into the Underland, trying to resist staring at her as she tried to take in this entirely fresh world.

To him, New York itself had changed quite a bit. As they left the park, still hand-in-hand, he still saw many people, ones he could identify as good or bad alike, going about their urgent and wary daily business. There were still thugs on a few corners, strange sounds echoing from alley buildings, and dogs running rabid through streets. When he put all the mayhem together now, though, he found that he found it much less intimidating and overwhelming than he had before he escaped it all into the earth. His experiences below seemed to have strengthened him to the dangers above. Now neither could affect him.

He shifted his arm around Luxa's waist as they headed deeper into the city, towards his home, passed by dangerous people to the dozen. He observed everything, aware of every danger and possible danger, protective of her at every moment. She was much too mesmerized with her fascinating new surroundings to notice the strange stares she received due to her foreign garb, and he would much rather have had it that way than its opposite.

The closer they came to the destination, the more he began to think of the unspeakable possibility he hadn't addressed as of yet: that his family would not be there when he got home. That they would have fallen to an evil again. That they were vanquished cruelly in his absence. No matter how he worded it, he couldn't bear to think of it, and chose instead to divert his imagination towards conceiving what he would do to himself in the event that it were true.

Slowly, Luxa began to lose interest in the world around her at the same time that he began to seize up, as the impending moment became every closer, as they neared his home and his fate began to come to a resting point. Their grips on each others' hands simultaneously tightened, and their nervousness and fear played through each other to intensify its counterpart. Both could sense destiny falling into place, and they had never been more afraid of anything, ever.

And so, when Gregor finally found himself standing at his own front door, again, grasping Luxa's hand nearly as hard as he could without hurting her, he was frozen on the spot.

The door was intact and solidly on its hinges, which was a good sign. At least they hadn't been ransacked, which meant that he could probably open the door with confidence, ready to find his family alive and well behind its confines. Unbelievable as that could be, he could already feel it was true.

His right hand was free. All he had to do was reach out and turn the doorknob, give the wood (sweet, _real_ wood) a light push, and it would swing open into the fateful decision. It would be simple, final, solid. It would get him past his mind, his worries, his fears, and either put them all to rest or burn them even hotter and longer than before. But he couldn't do it, for reasons too obvious to state to himself.

"I can't."

It was a simple statement, said in cold truth, right to Luxa and no one else, as he stared hard and long into the oak of the door, threatening to shake. He felt her head turn towards him as she felt the turmoil through their contact. She said nothing for a minute, as they stood perfectly straight. Then, finally, she slowly took a breath, and said quietly, "Do they love you?"

"I don't know anymore."

"What do you believe?"

He hesitated for only a second before he made a reply. "I would still love them."

"Then they love you, always and ever, and they will make the decision that is right for you, or sacrifice for you if they must. They will always love you, no matter what you do. Just like I."

There was no way to respond to such a statement. He felt that he was desperately close to tears, but felt none close to coming, and would never allow them to fall did they come. He blinked twice, just to clear up any trace or threat of any, and then took one shuddering breath. Feeling Luxa's grip firmly in his own, Gregor slowly reached out with his hand and turned the knob.

It was locked. Obviously.

He had removed a short iron stitch from above the frame in an instant, and quickly picked the familiar lock with ease, avoiding Luxa's gaze as he did so. Ironic how after everything he had been through he was stopped by a primitive lock. Shaking his head at the absurdity, he replaced the stitch where it was and then slowly placed his hand back on the knob.

He turned it soundlessly, and pushed it open slowly. He saw four pairs of shoes sitting in the foyer hallway. A familiar four pairs.

Stepping shakily into the home, he pulled Luxa softly with him, still worried of what he might find at the opposite end of the hallway. The door at the end was only a jar, but there were muffled voices clearly coming through the crack, as well as a light. he found himself already moving forward of his own accord, dragging her side-by-side with him. They didn't make a sound as they went, but kept moving and moving, crossing the hallway into what would be either their best or final moment together.

As they reached the end, and Gregor raised a hand to push the end door open, their gazes locked for a moment. In each other they could see love, fear, wonder, and nerve. Beauty, passion, talent, fame. But neither had the courage alone to open the door and step through it. Seeing the emotion in Luxa's eyes, though, Gregor found their souls joined in the effort, and felt a great rush of confidence and daring enter his system. Fueled by fate, he found himself slowly pushing the door, causing it to swivel open onto the scene ahead.

Which made him drastically question his eyes.

His family was playing cards at the middle kitchen table. His mother and Boots were dressed for the day and sat at one end of the table, clearly on a team. Lizzie and his father, dressed still out of bed, sat separately, sporting different hands and clearly not allied. The game was unclear, but no one could see the other's cards and there were a number pooled together in a rough pile at the center of the table. The simplicity of the situation, so oblong and unexpected, shocked him into a daze, and he could only stand frozen as all four of their heads snapped to the opening of the door, all converging to find him at the exact same time.

In all their eyes, he could see what they were and what they had gone through. There was fear, pain, rage, compassion, and a strange combination of hell and paradise, thrown together only through sheer desperation and willpower. They were all broken, Boots and Lizzie and his parents, broken by so much evil done upon them in so short a five years. They were weak, and mildly defenseless.

What Gregor also saw, though, as his eyes met all of theirs, though, was not anger, fierce defiance, and rebuke, as he had truly expected to find. Instead, when he found their gazes, all he saw was relief, love, and beautiful forgiveness. And when he looked towards his mother, his strong mother who had been through so much and still held high to keep the family together through any means possible, he even saw more. He saw emotions that didn't even have description, words without definition or composition. Love of such proportions that it couldn't possibly exist. When he looked towards his mother, he saw something completely different than what he had expected: exhaustion, regret, but, above all, unconditional love.

This was the exact moment he knew she would say "yes".

And that was his last coherent thought before he was engulfed by her arms.

**END OF PART 5**


	49. Epilogue: A Coming Storm

**Thanks to the great people who take time from their day to review: smackgod9, Mad Reminant, Fitz Marksicle, Darkrider013, Castaway5, and november21.**

**Annnnndddddddd... we're done. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Wait for it... **_**wait for it!!!**_**....... ........nope. Crud.**

**Epilogue**

**A Coming Storm**

There was no sun in the Underland. Obviously.

Being there no sun, this also meant that sunset and sunrise were a foreign concept to an Underlander. This, ultimately, would be the greatest thing Gregor would miss, removed from his life permanently and finally. As he leaned against the ledge on a balcony high above the street, the absence on the rocky horizon was only now evident and clear, and he only now realized how sourly and sadly it would be missed. But, as a pair of growingly familiar arms slipped around his waist from behind, he was instantly reminded that it was well worth the sacrifice.

His family had been surprisingly unresisting to the idea of relocating below the surface of the earth. His mother, ultimately, had been opposed to it the most, but even she had taken less persuasion than he had anticipated before she came over to their side of thinking. In the end, they were all more than eager to get out of the day's New York, and the hardest part, after gathering their wanted belongings and departing after nightfall, was deciding how to get everyone back with only Eris as transport. Gregor considered that, however, a much preferred difficulty as opposed to a few scenarios which might have popped up. It only took a few divided trips and a couple of extra fliers, although he wondered how he hadn't thought of this difficulty in the first place. Perhaps he had just believed there would be no success whatsoever.

It had been a month since, but the family was still only situating itself in Regalia, in a permanent residence. A house had been set aside for them, on the street directly lining the palace, chosen by their own wishes. They declined for a view, acting instead to be closer to Gregor, who had already stated he would live with Luxa in the future. His father moved to look for an occupation, as his mother acted to find proper education for their two daughters. They both did a remarkable job of making their actions look casual and usual.

As they started to blend in with their surroundings, Boots was beginning to remember a great deal from her infant past, and his parents adjusted to the shift with an admirable grace while trying to make it lighter on their children. In the end, all things considered and his mother's constant babbling promptly ignored, Lizzie had it the hardest out of all of them. She was still shy and fearful of society, due to the rape, and Ripred's death was terribly hard on her soul. Like the others, though, she was starting to adapt and move forward, and, with all of their help, even the worse parts were slowly turning around.

The cutters still had yet to attack Regalia. Every day, constantly, if Gregor wasn't helping his family or enjoying the limited time he had with Luxa, he was with Mareth continually effecting preparations for battle or readying soldiers for the inevitable eventual conflict. Gregor felt mildly guilty of towing his family into the midst of such terribly disturbing battle, but, just from seeing the change in attitude of his mother from the days in New York to now, he could tell that Luxa had spoken the truth in convincing: they would rather be with him daring death than be without and running away from it. The cutters never came, and they remained safe. All he could do now was do his best to keep it that way.

They had grouped there, on the balcony, on this particular day, just to cherish being together, when so many had been lost before them, and find hope for each other in case the enemy would finally come. They needed each other, now more than ever, and so they came together again. Not only his family, though; Mareth was there, Howard had accepted an invitation to come, Aurora and Nike, Howard's bond, were present, and Gregor had even made it a point to invite Eris to the gathering. After much debate, he had chosen, inevitably, to decline her request for bonding, although with a very heavy heart. It just hadn't felt the best and right option of the moment. It didn't seem like she had been offended by the action, although he was sure she wanted the ritual greatly. She still accepted his invitation, though, and so things couldn't have been completely horrible.

Currently, she was situated in a corner of the balcony, looking out of place but not altogether uncomfortable. Nike and Aurora were huddle on an opposite end, conversing privately while staring out over the city. Howard and both of Gregor's parents were constructing an argument over some irrelevant topic, while Mareth kindly and quietly suffered through Boots' constant and undivided attention. Lizzie sat slightly divided from the rest of the group, very close to her father. She was still constantly nervous around people even close to strangers, and hadn't participated much in the day's events. At the same time, though, Gregor could see her casting frequent and less-than-subtle glances towards Howard, in a way he didn't appreciate in the slightest.

All of these things, though, were only byproducts, hindrances, distractions from his mildly sour but still satisfying victory, which was represented in broad terms by Luxa, still strung around his waist, leaning against him. It had been five years since he had actually felt content, and even longer since he was happy. He wasn't quite the latter, but satisfaction was not strange to him anymore. The cutters were still there on the horizon of the small paradise he had, and eventually, he knew, they would attack with a great fierceness that, in all reality, they might not be able to counteract. There would be a fantastic battle, without doubt, and only one side would ultimately prevail. Aside from these grim thoughts, though, he was still there, on that balcony, surrounded by family and friends alike, and the danger seemed very, very far away. At the moment, the biggest topic of interest was who would be the victor in the debate between his parents and Howard, which was rapidly escalating to encompass the entire ensemble's attention.

"Your mother seems to be enjoying herself," Luxa whispered into his ear from behind, relaxing around him as they mutually stared out across the small kingdom that was now home to both of them.

"Oh, this is nothing," Gregor whispered back, rotating around so that he was facing her, leaning against the stone rail. He took her lightly in his arms, pulling her slightly closer. "You should see her when she's genuinely having fun."

She laughed lightly, purely, leaning in. It was a pure sound, more rewarding than any he had heard in a long time, and every time it found his ears it only sounded better than the last. Their lips met lightly, casually. It didn't last long, but like her laugh each time made him feel that much warmer, and he was graced with a loving grin even when they broke apart.

Grace's voice penetrated their privacy. "...and we've got these two over here playing lovey face every ten minutes! Seriously, this is civilization, how many things can it be allowed to tolerate?!" Breaks were hard to come by, and she was obviously enjoying this one very much. Her words were lined with annoyance, but a firm wall of amusement that was clear to anyone undercoated them.

"Calm down, Grace," his father prompted, knowing full well the level of his wife's delight. At his side, Howard was rubbing his head in exasperation. Behind Grace's back, Mareth was desperately trying to stifle a laugh, while hoisting Boots up to watch the argument continue.

"Come on, Mom," Gregor said, entering the conversation, "it's not like you're actually trying to stop us."

"Because doing so would probably get us banished from the city and all things so and what not! Logic, Gregor, please. Consider your actions and think before you act or speak! Break you up and Luxa would throw us out of the kingdom."

Luxa raised both eyebrows. "Oh, so that is why you do not come between us," she replied in the same taunting tone.

"Oh, of course, dear. But also because you're so cute together."

"Wonderful," Gregor growled, looking up and away. "Now we're _cute_..."

"But still!" Grace shouted, rearing back on Howard. "There's a war going to be on here, and all you can do is sit around and act like everything is perfectly normal all day, treating your victims like they just cut themselves making supper. What kind of doctor does that?"

Gregor slipped away from Luxa as she turned her attention fully towards the debate, squeezing her hand once before disentangling himself. Doing his best to ignore the increasingly heated but still irrelevant argument, he crossed the deck and sat down next to Lizzie, who didn't flinch as he slipped his arm over her shoulders. She was locked intensely in the same argument.

"Interesting topic for you?" he teased lightly.

"It's not for you?" she replied, leaning into him, never taking her eyes from the conversation.

"A little beyond my caring." He looked over to her, where she sat. She was still sitting relatively rigid, not quite comfortable. How comfortable you could be on a cushioned stone bench he wasn't entirely sure, but she wasn't quite there nonetheless. "You alright?"

"I'm fine." Her voice was solid.

He sighed lightly, contemplating before he spoke. "It won't do you much good if you only ever sit on the sidelines. Here is not New York. Here we can start over. Here you are a new person, who has lost nothing in the eyes of these people. Yet." He gestured once out to the crowd. "No matter what they look like, these people are your friends, and they wish to treat you as such. Maybe let them do so."

She turned her head slightly to look up towards him. They made eye contact, and he hoped she saw the sincerity in his statement. He had never enjoyed seeing her this incomplete, this destroyed, and, while she was making improvement, he wanted her beyond the scars. He wanted her to forget, and even if she couldn't, he might at least be able to bury the memory deep enough to banish it. They held their combined stares for a few moments longer, before she slowly nodded once and looked away. He didn't know if he had made a great difference, but it was a start.

Once again, Grace's voice broke through his concentration, this time directed straight at her husband. "So you're saying _now_ that it should be imperative law that parents stay home for the early years of their children's lives?"

"Yes," Mark replied. "So that they can make a great impact and impression on their children early on."

"This coming from the man who was absent in his youngest child's life for the first _three_ years."

"It was only two and a half! And technically, I went through a grate in the laundry room, so I never actually left home, did I?"

Most assembled were stifling laughs at the current point, and Luxa wasn't even trying. A pure grin and chuckle straight out in the open, her eyes were glowing as they turned away from the conversation, jumping straight over the rest of the balcony to Gregor. Their two gazes met, and for a moment they were frozen in time. Then, suddenly, Luxa gasped.

Every head on the balcony instantly swiveled to the queen, startled by the sound. Then, following her stare, they all jumped to look at Gregor. The same moment of recognition took place, and was finally followed by a number of reactions.

Aurora grunted. Nike hummed. Howard gawked. Mareth nearly dropped Boots. Eris raised an eyebrow high. His father almost tripped standing straight up. His mother felt tears spring to her eyes. Lizzie choked. Boots laughed. And Luxa, ever so slowly, felt a great grin slide back over her face.

Gregor was smiling.

**END OF GREGOR AND THE CUTTER LAIR**


	50. Acknowledgements

**Acknowledgements**

There's so much I want to say here, but can't because I feel so horribly overwhelmed.

There are so many of you who deserve my thanks, and so many of you whom I will never get the chance to thank. There are just too many things to say that can never be said, and for that I grieve.

In short, though, I have to thank you all so well for the accomplishment that is this story. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I really can't tell you how much all of you people mean to me, from all peoples, Chinese to American to Canadian to Asian; I love you all, and the great magnitude of that statement will never be truly understood by you guys. Thank you so much. I have only a few more things to say:

Firstly, this fiction is over. As of the moment when I post this acknowledgement page, I plan never to alter, rewrite, or substitute anything for any of this text. I don't give my word that I will hold myself to that, but know on your first hand that Gregor and the Cutter Lair is completed.

Secondly, I am completely open to talk of a sequel. Soon I will put up a poll on my profile to see if I should write one, and it will be totally up to you guys with the decision. Whatever you decide I will abide by, but be warned that the next installment would not be immediately begun, and, like the twists of this one, not all of it would be to your liking. I will, however, tell you that I do have the whole thing planned out already in the case of a yes answer.

Thirdly, I plan to take a week off, just because I'm selfish. Once that is over, however, I have begun plans to write a City of Ember fic called The Warrior in White. The full summary of this will be up on my profile within the week, and I plan to begin this story immediately following that. If I had the nerve to ask you wonderful people for anything more, I would ask you to follow that fic as well, but since I owe you so much and not the vice versa I will instead beg you to, and hope you don't hate me for the plot.

In a quick note as well, I would like to make a most serious statement, and ask that each and every one of you take this as such: recently in particularly I believe that the TUC section of this site has lost the essence of what we could call great fanfiction. Where stories were once revered for excellent plot lines and twists they are now dominated by insane continuums and mindless sex. Please, my friends, never forget what the Underland Chronicles were written with and for, and preserve that mindset. Anything else is a grave insult upon Suzanne Collins and her work.

In my last note of this exhausting fiction, I would like to take the longest and happiest of moments to thank a great number of people who mean the world and beyond to me. I would never have been able to do this without you:

Thanks to Seraphania/Citizen of Fantasy at Heart, who persuaded me to go past Chapter 3 and made it worthwhile to do so later, even after she stopped writing herself.

Thanks to shadowblade546, who explicitly hated the Viceroy and pushed himself to inform me of it on every possible occasion.

Thanks to tcat75, who stuck beside me even when turns came around that he didn't expect, all the way from chapter 1 to the end.

Thanks to november21, whom I believe will be placing this on her favorites list once this is complete, and who reviewed throughout nearly every chapter.

Thanks to Castaway5, T.R. Miles, and stephanie, for being there with reviews when there were none.

Thanks to Citizen of Fantasy at Heart/Seraphania, Guy13511, ImagineKat, dyingimmortal, Shadowblade546/ApalcalypticBunny42, Luny Lovegud, preyontheweak, gregorXluxa, Fitz Marksicle, Prophe, If I Had My Way -i would rule-, EbonyClaw, dji435, laxgoal31, urbanrhapz, Devil's Sunrise, Sad little smile, wwlego, Castaway5, Icesong85, GodlyFan227, SakuHira, The One Called Demetra, CrAnKiTuP, Sarcastic Ninja, deathsinger, StunningSpellRocks2345, Anti-Fuhrur, ripreds pup, Death-Gus, MrsDarcy14, operaghost517, BluePenguin42, Dooter-Space-Shooter, solegamer117, greensun30, Weezalicious, Surreptitiously Anonymous, KBXXROX, ripred95, badbeast57, Mad Reminant, Darkrider013, iwasthere68, and smackgod9, who all placed this story on their favorites list sometime along its journey.

Thanks to tcat75, EbonyClaw, Citizen of Fantasy at Heart/Seraphania, Guy13511, Shadowblade546/ApalcalypticBunny42, dyingimmortal, doomerbob, november21, Luny Lovegud, Fitz Marksicle, laxgoal31, Devil's Sunrise, Sad little smile, wwlego, Castaway5, GodlyFan227, Rgplmr, The One Called Demetra, CrAnKiTuP, CynicalSyndrome, anti-Fuhrur, ripreds pup, solegamer117, MrsDarcy14, greensun30, Spunker325, Timballisto, Surreptitiously Anonymous, KBXXROX, ripred95, badbeast57, and saacool gregor and percy rocks, who all ventured to receive alerts whenever I made the mistake of updating.

A great and melodramatic thanks to all of my fellow Underland Chronicle authors, for writing and loving and caring and everything they have all done for themselves, you all, and me.

And finally, the most humongous and behemothly gigantic gratitude festival of love out to all of you who _**have ever**_ reviewed my incredibly oblong story: tcat75, xthe beastx, Alot like Gregor, Seraphania/Citizen of Fantasy at Heart, Sum Vi3t Kid, Guy13511, alec-alumina, pomplamouse, Shadowblade546/ApalcalypticBunny42, Castaway5, deathsinger, stephanie, dyingimmortal, awsomeperson, november21, xxxxBlackTearsForeverxxxx, Luny Lovegud, Ailat, Fitz Marksicle, Unnamed17, EbonyClaw, jackstheman9, dji435, If I Had My Way -i would rule-, laxgoal31, urbanrhapz, EdgeStrife, your servant, wwlego, Rgplmr, sarah, The One Called Demetra, GodlyFan227, CrAnKiTuP, Sarcastic Ninja, justa-critic, T.R. Miles, UPDATE PLZZZZZ, ImagineKat, anti-Fuhrur, Nicole, abipolarwaffle, solegamer117, anon, mitchell, CarrieCullen14, operaghost517, greensun30, co1113, blackjack99, Robert, ali, Surreptitiously Anonymous, saacool gregor and percy rocks, Timballisto, SharinganTobi, zz1323, mmmlander, godzilla man360, Dark Rider013, Chase, Weezalicious, KBXXROX, Death-Gus, HCOBEAST, OneReaderAmongMany, ExoGriDBaseball7, very good ΩΠψΨΥΣ΅◎△□◇○ , collinsboy, RICE7, aldejaibra, Josh, iwasthere68, and smackgod9.

When I started this, I never imagined I would get past Chapter 3 and 100 hits. Now my mind can't even comprehend how far I've come, and all because of you brilliant, enigmatic, wonderful, amazing, radiant, dazzling, confusing, ecstatic, courageous, tolerant, beautiful, terrific, loving, robust, surprising, magnificent, glorious, perfect people out there, who for some reason believed in me and Gregor throughout all of these horrible adventures.

To the ends of the earth, and beyond, my outstanding companions.

Thank you all, and good night.

Chaotically and brilliantly yours,

Collier World


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